Veiled In Hate

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 BJ Alpha

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Copyright © 2023 by BJ Alpha

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
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except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents are products of the authors
imagination or used fictitiously.

Any similarity to actual events, locations or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Published by BJ Alpha

Edited by Dee Houpt

Proofread by Nay, That Grammar Gal

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 Sometimes letting go of our hate and allowing our mask to slip, is the the
only way to move forward.

You’ll be stronger for it, and your happiness will be a true reflection of how
you finally feel.

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To my readers…

I wish you the best hate sex.

EVER.

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 CONTENT WARNING

This book is intended for adults only.

It contains scenes of violence and graphic sex. Please check my website
for a full list of triggers.

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 Contents

Prologue
Chapter 1
CAMILLE
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
LUCA
CAMILLE
Chapter 4
CAMILLE
Chapter 5
LUCA
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
LUCA
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
LUCA
CAMILLE
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
CAMILLE
Chapter 13
CAMILLE
Chapter 14
LUCA
Chapter 15
CAMILLE
Chapter 16
CAMILLE
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
LUCA
Chapter 19
CAMILLE
Chapter 20
CAMILLE
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
CAMILLE
LUCA
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
LUCA
Chapter 25
CAMILLE
Chapter 26
CAMILLE
Chapter 27
CAMILLE
Chapter 28
LUCA
Chapter 29
LUCA
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
CAMILLE
Chapter 32
CAMILLE
LUCA
Chapter 33
LUCA
Chapter 34
LUCA
Chapter 35
CAMILLE
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
LUCA
Chapter 38
LUCA
CAMILLE
Chapter 39
CAMILLE
Chapter 40
CAMILLE
LUCA
Chapter 41
CAMILLE
Chapter 42
CAMILLE
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
LUCA
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
CAMILLE
Chapter 51
CAMILLE
LUCA
CAMILLE
Epilogue

Do you want more of Luca?

Also by BJ Alpha
SHAW
Acknowledgments
About the Author

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Prologue

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Camille

W hile pushing the college doors open, I giggle at Justin as he tells me

about his first shift at the coffee shop. His handsome face beams down at
me, and my stomach somersaults in what I can only describe as lust, or
maybe it’s love? I shake the thought from my mind. I can’t let that happen; I
can’t afford the consequences. I need to protect him and my heart.
“Then I put the cocoa powder on her green tea. Boy was she pissed.”
His words are drowned out by the wind blowing my hair into my face. I
pull the strands from my mouth and push it behind my ears. My eyes latch
on to a blacked-out SUV sitting idly on the corner of the street.
The SUV.
I scan the grounds, and my stomach sinks as my feet come to a standstill
and the blood in my veins turns to ice. I feel the color drain from my face in
dread, and my stomach roils at its mere presence.
This can only mean one thing.
My world is about to be turned upside down, and I have no say in it
whatsoever.
A shudder leaves me, and my hands tremble with the realization that my
life is about to change. I knew one day this day would come, but why did it
have to be now? When I’m learning so much. Enjoying my life. Mine.
Justin’s hand rests low on my back, and my eyes snap up to his. “It’s
time, isn’t it?” Sympathy oozes from his face as tears blur my vision. I can
only nod in response, but it’s like I’m not nodding at all; it’s an out-of-body
experience. This life doesn’t belong to me after all. It never has.
“And you’re sure there’s nothing I can do?” he asks, standing taller. He
scans my face, I assume looking for something that’s not there. Hope.
I clear my throat and raise my chin. “Nothing.”
Justin sighs, knowing I have no choice. The time has finally arrived.
 He lifts my chin between his forefingers, and his eyes bore down on
mine. “Then you go into that life”—he flicks his finger toward the SUV
—“like the strong woman I know you to be. Show them what you’re made
of, Camille Ricci. Show them the real you.” His voice is full of strength, a
confidence I wish I felt a glimmer of. But his words resonate in my mind,
the familiarity of them gifting me with strength.
My lip quivers at his words, but this isn’t me admitting defeat.
This is me stepping into my future with determination in my mind.
I straighten my spine and give him a firm nod as I step away from the
only man I could ever fall in love with, and walk toward my future.
One filled with dread.
With fear.
And above all else, hate.

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Chapter One

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Luca

I glare in the direction of my don, Lorenzo, and hate oozes from my

pores. Even being here, on this property, one of theirs, makes my skin
crawl. I want to rip open my flesh and roll in fucking salt to rid me of this
feeling, yet I’m expected to sit here in the same room as the family of the
scum that raped and murdered my younger sister.
Lorenzo glares back at me with equal measure, reminding me I have no
choice but to comply. To go along with whatever peace-making charade
he’s assembled between us and the Ricci family.
I slouch back in my chair and glance around the room, refusing to give
Dario my attention as he speaks. There’s no way on this earth I can be in the
same room as this piece of shit and pretend we get along.
As much as the need for spilling Ricci blood for vengeance is on pause,
I refuse to accept it will be forever. It’s only a matter of time until I continue
my crusade to rid the world of such scum.
Lorenzo clears his throat. “Luca. An agreement has been made between
Dario and me.” I sit forward in my chair and pay attention to what my don
has to say. And finally discovering why the hell I’m here in enemy territory.
Dario lifts his phone from the table and taps something out, then blows
a puff of smoke from his cigar. My leg bounces in anticipation. Just what
the hell do they have planned between them?
A door opens from behind me, putting my body on high alert. But I
don’t turn around. You never turn your back on the enemy.
The soft clicking of heels, along with the clunking of heavy boots, tells
me two people are approaching.
Dario stands to greet his guests. As does Lorenzo. But I refuse.
I realize I’m skating on thin ice being so disrespectful, but Lorenzo has
some nerve bringing me here, expecting me to keep my gun and my knife in
my pocket. It would be so easy to take them out right now. Although,
judging by the armored doors, I really wouldn’t get far.
“Camille, nice of you to join us.” Dario speaks in a gentle tone, letting
me know he’s fond of the young woman whose name I recognize well.
“N-n-nice to see you.” Her nervousness makes my lips quirk up in
delight. She should be worried being in the same room as the enemy.
“Please, take a seat.”
She pulls out the chair and sits beside me. Staring ahead, I refuse to
acknowledge her existence. No matter how much her coconut scent invades
my nostrils, making me want to lean in and taste it from her treacherous
skin.
“Lorenzo and I have been discussing a way to bring peace to our
families. To create the loyalties that we once had.”
I scoff at the fat bastard’s words. How fucking dare he? His family
wouldn’t know loyalty if it hit him in his round face. Anger bubbles inside
me as my face grows hotter and, desperate for vengeance, the rage boils and
boils. I tug at the collar of my shirt as my throat thickens in anticipation.
“You mean, before one of yours brutally raped and murdered my little
sister?” I grit out with vitriol, causing the Mafia princess to suck in a sharp,
shocked breath.
That’s right, sweetheart. You have the sick bastard’s blood running
through your veins too.
“Luca,” Lorenzo warns.
I shrug a shoulder and flop back in my chair, willing this to be over.
Dario exhales heavily. “As I was saying. We need to join an alliance
once again. Our families need to move forward. Enough blood has been
shed.” His voice is firm, demanding, letting me know he’s pissed with my
attitude.
I divert my attention to the young woman beside me.
 She sits stoically still, her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in
her lap. The perfect little Mafia princess. I almost want to scoff at my
analogy. She’s so fucking perfect, and I hate her for it.
“There will be a union between our families.” I don’t listen to the words
the fat bastard drawls because I’m too busy studying Camille Ricci and her
slender neck I’d love to wrap my hands around. It leads to a wavy ponytail I
imagine tugging at while I force her head back so hard she screams.
I regard her face.
She’s beautiful, I’ll give her that.
A pink flush travels up her neck into her cheeks, and I wonder if she can
sense my eyes on her. I lick my lips as my cock thickens in my pants,
reveling in her discomfort in my presence. She has blue eyes, but I can’t
make out the shade with her face turned away from me. I feel the need to
punish her for it, demand her to look at me.
She grinds her sharp jaw in annoyance, and I want nothing more than to
grip it in the palm of my hands and spit on her in loathing so she knows
what utter filth she is.
Her mouth drops open on a choked cough that hits me in the balls,
drawing them up with need.
I lift an eyebrow in amusement, unaware of the conversation happening
around me—completely enthralled by the little enemy princess.
Her head snaps toward mine, and she searches my face with what I can
only describe as a tormented expression. I narrow my eyes, curious of the
issue.
“I am not marrying him!” She spits the words out in disgust, and it takes
a moment for them to register in my brain.
And when they register, when my brain finally takes in the fact that the
two bastards that run our families have created a marriage union to settle
our feud, my cock spurts with excitement, and the thought boils my blood.
 I snap my eyes toward Lorenzo staring me down. He gives me a subtle
shake of his head, reminding me I’m already toeing the line. I’ve already
overstepped so many times I’ve risked not just my own life but my families
too.
I don’t have a choice in this agreement, and I hate him for it.
But I hate her more.

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 CAMILLE

I replay the words in my head. “You and Luca will marry. Your marriage
will be an alliance between our families, bringing peace once again.”
Horror rushes through me, along with betrayal and despair. How can he do
this? How can the man I love as a father do this to me?
My stomach rolls and my mouth goes dry, and I clasp my throat to ease
the pain from the lump that’s formed there, swallowing down the vomit that
threatens to escape. My heart feels like it’s being torn in two. How could
he?
I turn my head toward Luca, and his eyes are roaming over my body
like I’m a piece of meat he’s tearing apart and enjoying dissecting each
portion. His black eyes are filled with a promise of pain, yet he seems
completely unperturbed at the turn of events.
I tilt my head. Did he even hear what they said?
He has brought only pain and violence to our family since they accused
my brother of such awful deeds. I’ve lost uncles and cousins, all good men,
through his bloodthirsty need for vengeance, and I hate him for it.
“I am not marrying him!” The words roll off my tongue without
thinking.
Luca jolts at my words. He blinks before his jaw clamps shut, the vein
in his forehead protrudes, and his hands ball into tight fists, and I fear what
he’s about to do.
He turns his head calmly toward my uncle Dario. “What. Did. You. Just.
Say?” Each word is laced in a threat, each one sounding deadlier than the
last.
My heart hammers against my chest, and my body gives an involuntary
tremble at the growing tension in the room. I inch farther from him as my
mind tells me to run, yet I sit transfixed on what is happening, the exchange
between them.
“You’ll do as we ask, Luca,” Lorenzo drawls, as though fed up with
Luca. I swallow thickly, the room feeling so much smaller than before.
I knew my life was about to change. But I never expected this.
The room spins as I tune out the angered voices, and my mind becomes
cloudy. The feeling of impending misery makes me rub at the ache in my
chest.
Luca speaks the family oath. “In blood we’re bound. In trust we live.”
Why do his words feel more like a threat than a promise?
My tear-filled eyes meet his black ones once again, and this time,
instead of disgust and hate, his lips curve into a maniacal smile. The man
looks like he’s possessed by the devil, no less.
“I’ll be seeing you soon, wife,” he spits the words out as he rises from
his chair.
I stay seated, stunned to the spot as their exit continues around me.
Luca Varros is not the man I was meant to marry.
My chest tightens in panic.
He’s the man I hate.

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Chapter Two

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Luca

T he bass from the music thuds against the floor and has my head
pounding as I knock back another scotch, then slam the glass onto the table.
“And you have to marry her?” Disgust oozes from Maxim’s lips as his
eyes volley from mine to the strippers.
“Yes!” I snipe out, because how the fuck can my brother pay attention
to anything other than what is happening right now?
He sighs. “What are you going to do?”
I lift another scotch and groan when it burns the back of my throat. I
slink back in my chair. “What the fuck can I do?” I lift a shoulder in defeat.
“Did you speak to Lorenzo?”
I love my brother, but I want to punch his dumbass face so bloody he
becomes disfigured. “Of course I fucking did!”
I signal for another drink. The waitress in the skimpy outfit responds
straight away, walking over with a sway in her hips and a tray resting on her
hand. She pours the liquid from the bottle into the glass. “Just leave the
fucking bottle, would you,” I snap out in frustration.
“Of course.” She places the bottle down and slinks away.
Maxim leans forward, his eyes etched with concern. “What did he say?”
I drop back into my chair in defeat, shaking my head, knowing I’ve no
other option but to do what is being asked of me. “He said it’s time I
stepped up and became the man I was destined to be.” Maxim scoffs at my
words, but I continue. “He said he’s given enough concessions for Emilia,
and now it’s my time to pay for my sins.”
My younger sister, Emilia, went against the organization and got herself
knocked up by a suit when she was supposed to become a wife to a Russian
Mafia boss. She had a role to play and fucked it up big time. I, of course,
had a lot of damage control to do on her behalf. I practically sold my soul to
our don with a promise of doing anything if he helped her situation.
He did, of course. But I wish I knew then what I know now.
That the situation would be Camille Ricci. Anything but that.
“Sins.” Maxim’s lip curls up in contempt, and I couldn’t agree more—
ridding the world of scum is not a sin.
Maxim smirks back at me knowingly. When my papi adopted him as a
small boy, I never saw him as anything other than a little brother. He
became an ally as I grew into the man I am today, and I wouldn’t trust
anyone like I do him.
I lift my glass to salute my brother.
“I’ll have my vengeance, little brother, and when I do, Camille Ricci
will pay the price.” And I mean every fucking word.
I’ll marry the poison-filled bitch, and when the time comes, I’ll make
them all pay.

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Chapter Three

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Camille

M y uncle pushes my hair to one side, over my shoulder. “This is what

you were destined to become.” I close my eyes and hold my tongue, the
backhand he dished out for speaking out of line on the day I learned of my
fate still raw in my mind.
I swallow back the lump in my throat and close my eyes, praying for my
dead brother, Christian, to send me strength on my wedding day.
“He will not disrespect you, Camille. You have my word.” I close my
eyes at my uncle’s words, refusing to acknowledge them. He sold my soul
to the devil. Nothing he can say will help ease the pain of his betrayal.
Emptiness fills me, a sense of detachment from who I truly am. I’m a
medical law student, smashing her dreams, filled with ambitions, not a
wallflower Mafia princess about to serve the epitome of darkness.
“You have a role to play in this organization. To bring peace to our
world and those after it.” He speaks tenderly, as though hearing my
wayward thoughts. “Our future is in the palms of your hands, Camille.”
I take a deep breath and finally open my eyes with a new resolve. One
not of my choosing but one of purpose. To create an alliance for the future
of both our families.
“He won’t disrespect you. An agreement has been made. I made sure of
it.” My uncle’s eyes search mine, as though asking for gratitude. I gift him a
curt nod.
“When you’ve given him an heir, you can partake in your own lives.
Your dreams can be your own once again.”
Anger builds inside me. Not only do I have to spawn the devil’s child
but after I’ve done so, I’m being told our marriage vows will be null and
then I can pick up my life and live it once again? How hypocritical and
absurd.
 “And he’s okay with this?” My voice shakes. Remembering the
darkness in Luca’s eyes, I know he’d never be okay with it.
“He doesn’t have a choice, my child. Nor do you.” He nods at me
sternly as a reminder before dropping my veil and letting it slip through his
fingers to cover me, shrouding me in the knowledge of my position in the
organization.
I have a role to play. One where I cannot let my own veil slip.
One where I need to keep the hate hidden.
I’ll wear my veil until the time comes.

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 LUCA

The music begins, and every fiber of my being is filled with a heavy sense
of dread. Each chord sends a rush of hatred through me, and I clench my
fists. I grind my teeth and stare at the wall ahead, refusing to acknowledge a
single soul in the church.
It feels like each person here today is stabbing me in the back and
rubbing my face in the fact I’m being forced to literally lie in bed with the
enemy.
Her beauty is a mask to her true identity. I know it, she knows it.
There’s no way someone with her blood can be anything other than a
deceitful, venomous bitch.
When Lorenzo told me I was to produce an heir with the scum, I almost
wanted to cut off my own balls for reassurance that would never happen. I’d
never allow myself to father a child with her, never allow our bloods to
mingle.
Never.
And when he told me the action would be a true sign of alliance, I
almost scoffed. Almost. If it wasn’t for the blade piercing my Adam’s apple
in rage, I would have.
No, Lorenzo has given me no other option than to continue with this
charade. But there will be no heir. No true sign of alliance to walk this earth
while I’m on it. I’ve already set the ball in motion in that regard.
My lip curls up at the side, knowing I’m one step ahead and Camille
will forever be ten steps behind.
A throat clears beside me, causing me to snap my head in the direction
of Dario holding Camille’s hand to me. I stare down at her delicate hand
and don’t miss the tremble of her slender fingers as Dario practically thrusts
her hand into mine with irritation.
My thick, rough palm envelops hers as I grip her hand in a silent
warning, reminding her I’m in control and she’s mine to command.
I glower down at her, refusing to lift her veil, refusing to acknowledge
her eyes. I can feel them on me, searching mine. But she won’t find what’s
not there.
My soul is empty.
The hollow cavity filled with loathing.
Filled with nothing but hate.

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 CAMILLE

My heart pounds in my chest, and I blink back the tears, grateful for the veil
hiding my emotions like a mask.
I take a deep breath and exhale through my nose when his fingers
tighten on mine. His masculine cologne fills my nostrils and shrouds my
senses as his eyes bore down on me without even giving me eye contact.
The service moves on like background noise surrounding us while Luca
stares down at me, making me feel self-conscious at his clear contempt
toward me.
My heart hammers against my chest. Diverting my attention from the
monster looming above me, I chance a glance around the church while
gnawing on my lip. The room is packed to the rafters with both Mafia
families. The tension rolls off each side of the church with family assessing
the other like mortal enemies.
Newsflash. We are.
The pews are lined with fresh pink lilies, and each stone pillar has vines
trailing up them, entwined with the pink lilies.
It could be called beautiful if it wasn’t for the mask of it. Beneath the
surface lies a much darker prospect. Not a union formed out of love and
respect but of blood and hate.
 A baby giggling makes my eyes dart to the front row of pews on Luca’s
family side. His eyes have turned too, and his body relaxes as the baby
waves excitably in his direction.
The baby girl has thick dark hair with a cute little pink clip in the side to
match her pink dress. The mom bounces her on her lap while her husband, I
can only assume, rests his hand protectively on her knee. They look like the
perfect couple, and my heart does a wild skip at the thought. Something I
will never have.
“Is that your sister and her baby?” I whisper. Almost to myself.
His blackened eyes snap back to mine, gleaming with intent. “Keep
your fucking eyes off my family.” I jolt at the harshness in his words.
“Sir, if you could lift the veil,” the priest suggests in a low voice to
Luca. Yet he makes no move to lift my veil, and it’s abundantly clear he’s
going to do the bare minimum today. The thought pisses me off. We’re both
in the same situation, yet he continues to act like he’s the only victim of the
organization.
We despise each other with equal measure, yet he seems hell-bent on
taking his hatred out on me. Anger simmers inside me, and I take a deep
breath, refusing to give him any longer than necessary, I lift the veil and
raise my chin in defiance.
If he wants to be a prick.
Then so can I.

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Chapter Four

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Luca

S he lifts the veil, and my heart does a fucking stutter. What the hell is
happening right now? Sweat gathers on my forehead, and I feel like my
airways are closing.
Her blue eyes sparkle in defiance, and I’d love nothing more than to
force her over my knee and spank her ass for the glare she’s throwing my
way.
Annoyance at my reaction to her rumbles in my chest, and I grind my
teeth in anger, unable to act upon teaching her a lesson. Soon, I promise
myself.
My niece, Eleanor, babbles and it fills the church with an echo, and
when Camille smiles in her direction, I feel downright murderous.
I bend so I’m beside her ear. “I said. Don’t. Look. At. My. Fucking.
Family.” I force the words out low and deadly, causing a shudder to rack
through her slender body. She swallows hard, and I smirk like a prick at her
nervous reaction toward me.
She’s smaller than I expected, maybe five foot three without her heels. I
stand taller at six foot three. The distinct difference in our height makes me
bask in how small she is beside me. How delicate and vulnerable she is
under my control.
“Ass,” she mumbles under her breath, and my spine jolts with the
realization she’s referring to me.
How fucking dare she? I clench my jaw and pump my fists, struggling
to maintain control and not wrap my palm around her neck. How the fuck
am I going to rein in my temper around her long enough to keep her and
this damn alliance alive? Clearly, she hasn’t been brought up like a true
Mafia princess. No woman would dare to disrespect a man like she just did.
 We follow through with our vows, reluctance and boredom evident on
both sides, and the fact she is as reluctant as me only fuels my hatred of her
and her actions.
Any woman would be lucky to have me as a husband.
Hell, I could walk out those doors right now and have a queue of
women flock and fall at my feet, begging to become my wife. Yet Camille
practically balks at the notion.
I do as instructed by the priest and slide the ring symbolizing my
impending hell onto her slender finger. The tremble is still there, and I make
no move to reassure her whatsoever. I’ve no intentions of making her feel
better.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
The atmosphere in the room is frozen, on tenterhooks, when I don’t
move straight away. Camille’s pretty face scrunches slightly, and her cheeks
redden when I don’t react as instructed. Instead, I wait it out for the prompt.
This small piece of control makes me internally smile.
The priest clears his throat and repeats his words. “You may now kiss
the bride.” Yet I make no effort to move toward her. I stare into those blue
pools of hate and mirror them with my own. Yet mine are filled with a
darkness she can’t even begin to imagine, let alone possess.
A cough draws my gaze to Lorenzo, his glare thunderous as he motions
his head toward Camille. I cast my gaze back down to hers and smirk at
how pissed off she looks, left waiting to be kissed at the altar by her own
husband.
Fucking beautiful.
I drop my head and give her a quick peck on her lips. Before the guests
can even clap, my lips pull away from hers. A blatant sign of disrespect if
ever there was one.
She may be my wife on paper, but I sure as hell don’t intend to treat her
as such.
I’ll do what I have to do and nothing more.

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 CAMILLE

The church fills with the sound of guests clapping as they all stand in a
mark of unity and respect.
My wobbly legs teeter down the stone steps. Luca has put my arm
through his, his face a mask, void of any emotion as he stares blankly ahead
at the exit.
He strides down the aisle, practically dragging me with him. I struggle
to keep up, almost tripping in my heels.
He tuts in my direction but once again refuses to meet my eyes.
“Careful!” he snaps, and my blood seethes at his arrogance.
“You could slow down,” I snipe back.
“I need a fucking drink,” he grinds out, sparing me a glance as he
pushes through the wooden doors, dropping my arm the moment we step
outside.
His veil has dropped.
He strides toward the blacked-out limousine and doesn’t even so much
as acknowledge the poor driver holding the door open for him.
His ignorance riles me, but I try my best to tamper it down. I need to get
through today, preferably in one piece.
I climb into the limousine with the help of the driver, and I lift the train
of my dress so I’m careful not to stand on it. My ass finds the seat opposite
Luca. He’s already attacking the minibar like a drug addict in a pharmacy.
He doesn’t even pour the golden liquid into the glass; he literally picks
up the bottle and breathes a sigh of relief I can only imagine is due to the
burn in his throat.
The engine starts and then we make our way toward the reception.
When Luca leans back in his seat, I take the opportunity to look him
over. I’ve never been alone with him, and the fact his cologne fills the
limousine pisses me off. Even the air I breathe belongs to him.
He has one arm resting over the back of the seat and his head tilted
back. His long legs are stretched wide, and his eyes are closed as though
absorbing the silence.
Glancing at the minibar, I, too, need to unwind. I lean forward and just
as my hand reaches for the champagne bottle, his hand snaps out and grasps
my wrist, and I flinch at the pain.
“How old are you?” His head turns toward me, and I gasp at the venom
in his eyes.
Replaying his words, my body coils tight. “You don’t know how old
your wife is?” I balk, scrunching my nose. I know everything there is to
know about Luca. The moment I found out my fate, I did my research on
the monster who has plagued my family.
I know he’s thirty-three and he’s a capo in the Varros family and the sole
heir to his fortune, although he has a younger sister and adopted brother.
His papi raised his younger sister while he was on his crusade to rid my
family of our bloodline.
“All I know is you’re the twin sister of the filth that killed my sister.”
My heart thunders against my chest, constricting my breathing. I’ve
spent the last three years unable to mourn the loss of my twin brother,
whom I adored. And knowing the man that caused my family such pain is
now the man I have to spend my life beholden to guts me to the core.
 “Twenty-one,” I choke out. My voice is weak, and I kick myself
instantly for it. Hating myself for showing any sign of weakness around him
because I’m so much more.
“Twenty-one,” he mocks before his eyes narrow on me, and his hand
moves from my wrist to my chin, turning my face toward his. He uses his
thumb and presses down on the split in my lip, and I wince before he draws
it away. The makeup artist had covered it well, so he really must have been
scrutinizing my face. Why does that please me? Warm me inside?
“Who did that?” His husky voice has me on edge. It’s not his normal
dark one but one etched in concern. That can’t be right.
“No one,” I respond on autopilot.
Luca releases his hold on me and throws his head back on a deep,
condescending chuckle. “The Riccis rape and murder women. Of course
they beat them too.”
“My brother is not a rapist. He wouldn’t harm a fly.” I clamp my jaw
shut, regretting my words.
He closes his eyes as red takes over his face, and I gulp down the lump
in my throat. His body is shaking and his chest heaving in a barely
controlled rage.
My hand shakes as I take a glass from the holder. I grab the bottle, but
he snatches it away from me.
“I need a fucking drink too, Luca. It’s not just you drowning in misery.”
I seethe at his antics.
He stares at me in disgust, and his lip curls into a cruel sneer as his eyes
roam crazily over my face. “Then you better have the bottle, because you’re
on a one-way trip to hell, Camille.” His lip quirks up at the side, and I get
the urge to kick him in the balls.
Just what the hell does he have in store for me?
I close my eyes, praying I can survive this. His dark chuckle sends a
shiver down my spine, and not for the first time, I wish my escape plan was
in place.
One day.
One day, I’ll get away from it all, and when I do, they’ll never find me.

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Chapter Five

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Camille

I glance around the table, once again feeling out of my element. Luca’s
brother, Maxim, stares at me with such hatred it feels like the room is
closing in on me, and it’s making it difficult to breathe.
Luca tosses back champagne as though it’s water, then signals for the
server to refill his glass. I wonder if he has an alcohol problem or if it’s the
expectations of the day getting to him. I sip my drink, wanting to stay alert
around people that clearly despise me. The thought sends a wave of
nervousness coupled with nausea through me before settling like a boulder
in my stomach.
I scan the room in an attempt to divert my attention from the heated
tension at our table.
Luca’s sister isn’t sitting at our table, and when my eyes finally land on
her, I realize she is as far away as possible. Hurt bubbles inside me at the
awareness that he’s made sure everyone he cares about has been kept at a
distance, as though I could harm them just by being in proximity.
For the first time tonight, I pick up my glass and empty it. Maxim
smirks at me from across the table, and I fidget uncomfortably under his
never-ending scrutiny. “Keep drinking, sweetheart. You’re going to need it
tonight.” He winks and then lifts his glass and gives me a mock salute
before tipping it back and slamming it down with a taunting grin on his
face.
My chair screeches across the marbled floor as I push away from the
table, ignoring the shocked reactions of the guests.
Feeling woozy and desperate for air, I push my way past servers and
head toward the open patio doors.
Desperate to breathe.
 The drapes blow in the breeze, as if they’re inviting me outside. As I
step closer, I feel the need to run, but I don’t.
My pulse races with panic, but the cool air quells the anxiety, and I suck
in a sharp, deep breath I hadn’t realized I needed until now.
My hands find the railing, and I drop my head forward, trying to control
my escalated breaths. Slowly, I regain control. Breathing through my nose
and out my mouth, I take in the fresh air like a blanket comforting me.
A shuffling noise on the ground behind me has me spinning to face one
of the O’Connell brothers. He leans against the wall with a cigarette
hanging from his lips, his messy hair and unclipped bow tie making me
want to chuckle. He’s clearly not a suit person.
“Congratulations.”
I scoff at his words, and his lip quirks up in jest.
“Christian’s sister.” He nods toward me. My spine straightens at his
words, and my jaw tightens. Suddenly feeling defensive of my brother.
He kicks off the wall and flicks his cigarette into the bush before
glancing over his shoulder toward the open doors. “Good kid. Met him
once, he was with his friend.” He stares at me as though trying to have a
silent conversation. He tilts his head toward the door, then says, “Gonna
have a rough ride with Luca.” Then he licks his lips and exhales, as though
preparing to tell me something important. “He’s not all bad. Has a soft spot
for his sister, so there’s that.” He shrugs as though he’s told me something
huge, when, in reality, he told me nothing I haven’t already figured out
myself.
He moves a hand to the inside pocket of his jacket, and I take a step
back. He chuckles at my reaction, and I watch wide-eyed as he squirts some
hand sanitizer into his palms and rubs them together. “Wife would cut off
my balls if she knew I smoked.”
I laugh at that, and he chuckles back at me. His handsome face lights up
under the glow of the patio lighting.
 “Camille. Get inside where you should be!” My uncle’s firm voice cuts
through the air, and the lightheartedness disappears in an instant, and I sag
in response. I give the O’Connell brother a firm nod as I leave him standing
on the patio, washing away his sins in his palms.
I wish I could do the same and cleanse all the poison running through
this room.

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 LUCA

My blood boils. She’s been gone for thirty-one minutes and twelve seconds.
I try not to glance at my watch again. Everyone has noticed her absence. I
allowed her to leave to gather her thoughts and pull her shit together—like
women sometimes need to do—not for her to abscond from her duties.
I click my fingers for one of my soldiers. He lowers his head, allowing
me to speak in his ear. “Tell Dario his niece is missing, and I don’t like to
be made a fool out of.”
My soldier nods before striding away with purpose. I glance at Maxim,
and the smug little bastard wears a shit-eating grin, which makes me want
to fill his face with my fist.
Fuck off, I mouth toward him, and he stifles a laugh with his drink.
Three minutes later, my wife parks her ass on the chair beside me. My
nostrils flare with anger when she doesn’t so much as grace me with an
excuse for her absence.
I turn away from her, ignoring her presence, and talk to the fat-bastard
crime commissioner sitting beside me.
Pulling out my phone, I tap out a message to Enzo, my right-hand man,
asking him for a breakdown of her whereabouts for what turned out to be
almost thirty-five minutes.
 “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s that time of night when the happy couple
take to the dance floor. Can you please stand for the bride and groom!” a
voice booms over the microphone, and my spine bolts straight. Fire burns
inside me at whoever did this. When I glance at my brother, his expression
is nonchalant as he shrugs. All eyes calculate my movement, giving me no
choice but to take hold of Camille’s arm and pull her to her feet. She
grumbles under her breath at my heavy-handedness, but I ignore her,
prepared to play our part, and storm toward the dance floor.
“Fucking smile,” I grit out.
Standing in the center of the dance floor, I spin her to face me. Her blue
eyes flare in rage at how easily I can maneuver her body into position. My
hands find her hips, and I scowl back at her in contempt.
“I expect you to perform as a wife should.” Fury and turmoil radiate off
her like a second skin.
But she does as I requested and plasters on a fake smile to appease me
while biting into the inside of her cheek. The fact she wants to respond but
knows she shouldn’t has me relishing in her discomfort.
Her jaw grinds from side to side as we step around the dance floor
gracefully. I won’t tell her how impressed I am with her moves, not when
her scent invades me, not when she looks so fucking stunning with her
fitted gown that a lump forms in my throat.
Not when I hate her so much. I could place my hands around her pretty,
slender neck and strangle the life out of her.
I won’t utter a fucking word.
“Can you at least smile back at me? You look like a stone statue.”
My eyes widen at her words. How fucking dare she?
“And you look like you’re about to murder me. We’re meant to be a
happy couple. For them . . .” She throws out an arm toward the guests,
giving me no other option but to smirk down at my wife while I imagine all
the ways I will make her pay.
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Chapter Six

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Camille

L uca is drunk. His speech is slurred, his head hangs, and he’s
struggling to remain in his chair, unable to sit up straight. I can’t say as I’m
disappointed; at least he appears happy now. I sit in the corner of the room,
watching the function take place without me.
A purse is thrown onto the table, snapping me out of my daze. “You
look miserable. Nothing like a good old Mafia-arranged wedding to bring
out the joy in the bride, right?”
My eyes dart up to find Isabelle De Luco staring down at me. A smile
tugs at my lips at how true her words are. She turns her head to look over
her shoulder in Luca’s direction. “How the hell is he going to get it up
enough to perform the bridal sheet ceremony?” She curls her lip in disgust.
I shrug, ignoring the inevitable.
“Well, good luck with that.” She throws herself down in the chair
opposite me. “You’ve been away at school, right?”
I tuck a strand of my wayward hair behind my ears as I take her in.
She’s younger than me, but after only a few moments in her presence, I can
tell she’s wise beyond her years.
“That’s right. Europe. I came home this year.”
She whistles. “Lucky you. I have to go to a Catholic school. To make
me a ‘good girl.’” She hand gestures quotes, and I laugh loudly.
Raising a brow at her, I can’t help but ask, “Does it work?”
She scoffs—unladylike. Un-Mafialike. “I think my father deserves a full
fucking refund.” I giggle again, which only encourages her. “With
compensation, for corrupting me.”
“Oh God, no.” I put a hand over my mouth to stop myself from drawing
attention to our giggles.
 “Absolutely. Have you seen the prick they’re making me marry?” She
scrunches her nose. And my heart plummets at the thought of what’s in
store for this poor girl, who oozes personality, that’s about to be crushed as
a Mafia wife.
“Gabriel Varros.” She rolls her eyes while my mind whizzes through the
Mafia faces I’ve seen over the years, and most recently, the front cover of a
magazine featuring the gorgeous face the man who just so happens to be her
fiancé.
“Gabriel?” I repeat in shock.
She scoffs, and eyes wander in our direction. “Right? A walking, talking
STD. When I bore his spawn, it’s going to come out with some sort of
contracted disease. Poor thing will no doubt have a few heads.”
My eyes bug out at her nonchalance. “I’m serious. It can happen. I
Googled it.”
I blink in her direction. “See. You’re dumbstruck, aren’t you? So, just
know, if you think marrying Luca, the serial killer, is bad, you could always
be marrying Gabriel, the vagina killer.”
I choke on air, unsure whether to laugh or remain shocked.
Over Isabelle’s shoulder, I notice Maxim power walking in our
direction, and I gulp at the bleak expression on his face.
“It’s time, huh?” Her eyes flick over my face with sympathy. I nod back
at her, unable to construct words as the pool of dread rises from my
stomach.
He looms over us. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” Maxim hitches his
thumb over his shoulder, and Isabelle and I glance in the direction. I pinch
the bridge of my nose in embarrassment at my husband’s intoxicated state.
He slumps from a bar stool, only to be caught by one of the guests.
Rising to my feet, I straighten my shoulders with a confidence I don’t
feel. Knowing all eyes are on us, I ignore my nervousness, instead smiling
with feigned grace like a good Mafia wife and follow Maxim across the
dance floor.

He slumps against the elevator wall, his black eyes almost closed. My jaw
tics at the scene he’s caused. The shame he’s instilled on our families, at our
wedding, no less. Maxim holds his head in place and brings the water bottle
to Luca’s mouth, even tipping his head back for him. I shake my head in
disgust and turn away, annoyed at the fact I’m in an elevator with the men
that slaughtered my family. My skin crawls, and I wrap my arms around
myself, as though that can protect me from them.
When the elevator pings, it feels like my calling; I’m about to be in
literal hell. The guards and Maxim lead the way to the honeymoon suite
while vomit creeps into my throat. I close my eyes until I realize how
distracted they’ve all become at my husband’s disposal, and my eyes snap
open with thoughts of running. I glance over my shoulder to the elevator
doors closing.
A dark chuckle breaks me from my thoughts. “Don’t even think about it,
Princess. Your fate is sealed.” Maxim smirks at me with his arm
outstretched toward the open door. The lump in my throat thickens as I step
toward it and finally over the threshold.
His deep, baritone laugh makes me glare in his direction as I walk past
him and into the bedroom. The two guards drop Luca onto the bed, causing
him to laugh loudly. The action seeming alien to him somehow, yet I soften
to the sound. He seems almost human in his drunken state.
The guards back out of the room. Spinning around, I take in the
bedroom. Soft whites are everywhere, giving it an almost clinical feel, and I
scrunch my nose at the thought.
 “The sheets will be collected in the morning.” My head snaps in
Maxim’s direction, and he nods toward Luca. “Good luck with that.”
I part my lips to respond, but he turns and the door clicks shut in place.
The sound ominous to how I’m feeling.
Trapped.

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Chapter Seven

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Camille

L uca’s head rises from the bed. His dark orbs meet my eyes, and I
swallow under his stare. The atmosphere around us is tense, and it makes
my blood pump quickly, full of anxiety. I am, after all, trapped in a room
with a man who hates me.
Unsure of what to do, I take in the room once again, stalling, giving
myself time, for what, I’m unsure.
The large bed takes center stage; the crisp white sheets are slightly
ruffled due to Luca’s inebriated state. There’s a door to the right I imagine
would be the bathroom. To my left is an armchair, and behind me is a walk-
in closet, no doubt storing our luggage for the night.
“Give me a water!” he spits, raising his head enough to glare at me.
I clench my jaw at his rudeness and glare right back at him with
defiance. He tilts his head toward the bar.
Taking a deep breath, I stroll over to it like I have all the time in the
world, ignoring his impatience and flaring nostrils.
Scanning the bar, my eyes settle on the small liquor bottles. I snag a
small bottle of vodka, break the seal, and bring it to my lips. Movement
makes my eyes wander over to him, and he sits up on his elbows. “I don’t
want you fucking pissed!”
My eyes bulge at his audacity before I ignore his outburst and knock
back the drink, relishing the burn it leaves behind.
I grab a bottle of water from the counter and walk over to him. His eyes
burn with fire when I throw it on to the bed beside him.
As I’m about to walk away, his hand snaps out, and he grips me by the
wrist, forcing me to a standstill.
“Strip!”
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 LUCA

“Strip!” I snap the word out with venom.

I might be pissed, but my cock sure didn’t get the memo. No, the fucker
is rock hard like it has been all day. I even resorted to going to the
restrooms while Maxim gave a pathetic speech about what a wonderful
union this would become. I jerked my cock while imagining destroying her
perfect makeup with my cum.
She tenses beneath my hand, but she makes no move to do as I ask. So I
press harder, my grip so tight it’s bound to leave marks behind.
This makes her jump. She pulls back from me, stumbling, and I laugh at
her.
“Take your hair down!”
She turns away from me, giving me her back. The disrespect in her
action causes my pulse to race with anger. I unbutton my shirt while I’m
entranced by her hair falling over her shoulders and down her spine as she
sets her hairpins onto the dresser. I lick my lips as my heart races. Our eyes
meet in the dresser mirror long enough for her to see the desire behind
mine, and I see the fear behind hers.
My little wife is scared of our first night together, and like the sick
bastard I am, I revel in it.
“Lose the dress.”
 She closes her eyes as her shaky hands find the zipper at her back. My
cock jumps at the trepidation oozing from her body. I widen my legs to
accommodate my cock, toeing off my shoes and socks and tearing my shirt
from my body. My head swims with each movement, but I know what
needs to be done.
I need to defile the traitorous bitch; they’re counting on it.
It’s my duty.
Her dress pools to the floor, and I suck in a sharp breath at her exposed
body. The reaction has never left me before, not once in my life. I’m usually
so controlled and don’t allow myself a slip of a reaction.
I’m feeling a hell of a lot more sober.
Her firm tanned ass is encased in a white lacy thong, and she has a
garter belt on and her heels. Blood rushes to my dick, causing it to pulsate
painfully. I have no choice but to rub over it to gain some friction against
the fabric of my pants, but it gives me little relief.
Her breathing stutters, and her eyes remain closed. The fact she’s
blocking me out pisses me off and has me balling my hands into fists. I
want her to see me, to see how much I despise her.
“Turn and open your fucking eyes. Look at me, Camille.” My dark
voice sends a bolt of excitement through my body.
She turns on her toes, her eyes open, laced in vulnerability, and when
they clash with mine, a pang of sympathy hits me square in the chest.
But it’s not like I have a fucking choice either, is it?
Anger simmers inside me, and I grip the sheets in the palms of my
hands to stop myself from forcing her onto the bed. To stop myself from
punishing her for the situation we’re in right now. Having to fuck your
mortal enemy will never feel so good.
Hating her will never taste so delicious as when my cock unloads in her
snarky mouth.
“Take off the heels, and drop the bra.”
 I stare up at her. Her brown waves flow over her shoulders, pink creeps
up her neck, and I wonder why she’s so embarrassed, why she’s so self-
conscious when she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I shake my head, blaming the alcohol for my wayward thoughts.
She kicks her heels to the side, and her fingers tremble as she unclasps
her bra and it falls to her feet.
My heart skips a beat at how incredible her tits are. Like some sick
bastard conjured up the perfect woman for me, yet gave her poison for
blood. Just the taste of her will be enough to render me useless.
Her tits are heavy, perfect with peaked pink nipples that make my
mouth water as I imagine suckling on them tenderly before biting over her
flesh and leaving marks so brutal they’ll last forever. Like the one she’s
making on me.
“You’re like a fucking witch putting a spell on me.” My words come out
garbled—the drink part of the problem, I know this. But it’s her, the way
she makes me feel so reckless, so out of control.
And I hate it.
“Take off your panties.”
Her breath hitches with emotion, and my cock jumps. I don’t know what
I like more, her compliance or her fear.
“L-Luca?” her voice trembles yet I ignore it.
I hold up my hand to stop her from begging. There’s nothing that can be
done; our fate is already sealed, thanks to our asshole dons, and the fact she
thinks I have control over the situation irks me. “Get on the fucking bed.
Let’s get this over with.”
Her head droops, and she gives a defeated nod. Her lip quivers, and I
have a sudden urge to pull it into my mouth and punish her for it. I stare at
her, entranced as her fingers slip into the scrap of lace and she pushes them
down over her hips until they fall to the floor.
 Pushing up from the bed, my head swirls but not enough for me to
forget what I need. I stumble over to my jacket resting on the chair and fish
in the pocket for the condoms I brought with me. Feeling her eyes on me, I
turn my head over my shoulder to face her. “Get on the bed and spread your
legs.”
She closes her eyes once again, as though trying to fight some internal
battle we both know is useless.
Strolling toward the bed, I unbutton my pants and pull out my solid
cock. It’s wet in my palm, and the fact I’m so turned on by someone I hate
so much makes fire burn beneath my skin, a rage clawing to get out.
She lifts her head as I position myself between her legs. Her bare,
untouched pink pussy makes my cock twitch and pre-cum drip from the
end.
“Luca?” She tries again to reason with me, her voice so soft and delicate
I almost want to give in to her. Almost.
I tear open a condom with my teeth and drag it over the tip of my cock,
trying my best not to look at her untouched body urging me to fill it.
The condom snags, and I tear it with my drunken heavy-handedness.
“Fuck.” I rip it from my cock in annoyance. Grabbing another, I try again as
Camille lies there open and waiting. I roll the fucker down my cock and
give it a few pumps.
There’s no way I’ll give them what they desire—an heir to form an
agreement I have no intention of keeping. I need to figure out an alternate
way to destroy them.
I glance up and into her crystal-blue eyes. “Are you wet?” I’m unsure
why I ask. Why should I care?
I shake my head at the thought. I might be a prick, but I’m not a fucking
savage. Not in the same way that her brother was, anyway. He didn’t stop to
ask my sister the same question. No, the sick fuck took it without consent.
 I tense up at the fact, rage taking over my body and unsurprisingly
making my cock harder.
“No.” Her voice is a delicate whisper. Why does the word make my
chest tighten? Is it because of how vulnerable she is right now? The way
she said it, or is it guilt at taking her before she’s even ready?
I owe her nothing.
But I give her a small substitute for allowing me to punish her virginal
cunt.
I spit at her pussy; she gasps with wide eyes, and I chuckle sadistically.
Then, without warning, I drag the tip of my cock up and down her slit,
once, twice, then I slam inside her, breaking through her barrier at full
force.
A sob leaves her lips, her spine arches in what can only be pain, and her
hands cling to the sheets beside her.
My mouth drops open in ecstasy. Fuck, I’ve felt nothing like it before.
So fucking tight she’s strangling my cock. I freeze above her because if I
move again I’ll come.
Jesus. I’ll come.
I breathe through my nose and close my eyes for a moment, just to get
some composure over my body. Some control.
She moans, and my eyes snap open, and for the first time since she lay
down, I allow my gaze to roam over her delectable body.
Her perfect tits beg me to mark them, but I refuse to allow myself, not
tonight, at least. But I want to see them bounce as I fuck her. “Fuck,” I pant
out with desire coursing through me.
My eyes travel back to her face to find her head turned to the side. Is
she blocking me out? Blocking this out? When I’m forced to fuck the
poison, she gets to tap out? Anger fills my blood, mixing with the pleasure
her pussy gifts me. “Fucking look at me!” I demand. She makes no move to
face me. My hand snaps out and takes her chin between my fingers, forcing
her to face me.
“You don’t get to block this out, Camille. You’re going to watch your
enemy fuck you raw. You’re going to see whose cock is tearing you apart.”
I pull almost all the way out before slamming inside her again and again.
“You’re going to remember how much I fucking hate you for this!” I surge
inside her again, and the feeling of euphoria pulsates around me. “Feel my
fucking pain!” I scream in her face, watching with pleasure as it crumples.
I surge deep inside her again and again, each time better than the last,
and her tits bounce for me, her peaked nipples desperate for me to suck on
them. “Fuck. Fuck.”
Her tight pussy makes it difficult for me to pull out, but the friction is
incredible. “Jesus, so fucking good.”
Another whimper leaves her mouth, and I love it. Slam. Sweat coats my
body as I thrust inside her harder, knowing how much she hates me right
now. Slam. Like I hate her. Slam.
Pleasure zaps up my spine. “Fuck, I’m going to . . .” My cock swells as
I power inside her again. Cum shoots from my cock, and the force behind it
is so incredible I feel like I’m floating.
Coming down from my orgasm, I thrust my hips forward once again,
just to make sure I empty every last drop of pleasure from me.
My body sags, drained of all coherent thoughts. Surely, it’s because I’m
drunk that it felt so good.
I slowly withdraw my cock.
My role fulfilled.
Camille winces, and my heart constricts. Unable to deal with her
situation, I instead turn my concern for her, the rapist’s sister, into anger.
Blood coats my cock and flows from her used pussy. Shit.
I wasn’t gentle, that’s for sure.
I glance up to see her turned away, but tears are streaking her cheeks.
 My breath stutters, and panic builds inside me. Am I as bad as him? I
push back on my heels but stumble, probably due to my intoxicated state. I
fall from the bed with a heavy thud as panic fills my lungs and my chest
constricts, and I feel like I can’t breathe. My chest tightens and heaves, but
I’m controlling none of it.
None.
I’m a monster. I’m just like him.
I can’t breathe. A fucking monster.
Something touches my shoulder, and I flinch until I realize it’s her. The
woman I just hurt. I lift my head to find her leaning over me, gazing down
at me, her blue eyes wide in concern.
“Luca. Are you okay?”
I stare at her. Am I okay? I choke on the breath struggling to escape my
lungs. “No.” I shake my head, and my voice wobbles as I speak. “I’m not
fucking okay!” The boom behind it startles her.
She swallows hard, as though nervous. “I understand.” She darts her
eyes away.
I laugh on a grimace and shake my head at the fact she’s being so
compassionate. Her being so concerned in how I feel after I fucked her
pussy raw annoys the hell out of me. How can I feel so conflicted? How can
I hate her so much yet sympathize with her too? A pain hits me in the chest.
I shouldn’t fucking sympathize with her.
She doesn’t deserve it; she deserves all the hate for what her family
caused, and I have it in abundance to give.
I turn my head to face her, staring straight into her eyes. My words are
low and deadly. “I hope it hurt. You know that? It’s going to hurt so much
worse than that, Princess. Welcome to hell.” Lies. All fucking lies, but
watching her face crumple in hurt makes my jaw tic in anger.
Her shoulders pull back. “I’m already there, Luca.” She raises her chin
with a look of determination. “And you know what? I hate you too.”
 Her words shock me, or maybe it’s the drink screwing with my mind,
but something tells me she isn’t the meek, vulnerable princess I expected
her to be.
Something tells me she’s so much more.

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Chapter Eight

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

I groan at the persistent banging vibrating my brain. Rolling over, my

face rubs against something rough. I feel around to drag a pillow over my
head, but there’s nothing there.
Shit, where the hell am I again?
I sit up on a wince, and the pulsating in my temple blurs my vision.
Again, the banging is so loud it makes me reach for my gun to end the
fucker’s life that’s causing me unnecessary misery.
My head swims as I stumble to my bare feet. I glance around the floor
for my shirt, but the pounding on the door pulls me in that direction.
I struggle to unlock the door, my sight still hazy.
Swinging open the door, I’m greeted by Maxim wearing a shit-eating
grin.
My face must be marred in confusion because his expression falls to
sympathy. I drag a hand through my unruly hair. “What?”
He sighs. “I’ve come for the sheets?”
Confusion whirls in my mind, and it hurts too much to think on it. What
the hell is he talking about?
“The sheets, for the ceremony. You did fuck her, right?”
Pain lances my chest at the realization, and I turn so he doesn’t witness
my reaction as the previous night comes flooding back.
My throat suddenly dry, I croak out, “Of course. Give me a fucking
minute. And I’m not attending any ceremony. Tell Lorenzo he can go fuck
himself.”
I slam the door as he lets out a loud chuckle. We both know he won’t
tell Lorenzo that, he wouldn’t dare.
Neither would I.
 I pause at the end of the bed as I take her in. She’s naked, having kicked
off the sheet during the night.
My gaze travels up her open legs, and dried blood stains her thighs. I
lick my lips, my cock paying attention to her vulnerable state, yet my mind
battles with how much I hate the fact that I hurt her.
Apart from the blood on her thighs, her body looks untouched, and the
thought irks me. She should wear my marks; people should know she
belongs to me now. Including her.
Her hand clutches a small empty bottle of liquor, and I let out a low
laugh. Seems I’m not the only one that needed assistance in getting through
the night.
While walking around to the side of the bed nearest her head, I kick a
full bottle of water, and it skitters across the floor. I look to my feet and
beside them lie two Advil. I pick the pills up and place them in my trouser
pocket.
I glance back at Camille. Soft sounds escape her lips, and she looks so
content I hate her for it. Glaring down at her, I have a need to reach out and
touch her hair, but I don’t. Instead, I put my hands in my pockets, not
allowing myself to get too close to her.
Her eyelashes are long but natural. I bet she’s the envy of all women
with her delicate features. On closer inspection, I spot a few freckles on her
nose and wonder if they have always been there.
Her hair looks so silky I imagine it’ll feel incredible when I wrap it
around my fist. My cock jumps in my pants, and when a snoozing noise
escapes her pink lips, I have a dark urge to wake her with the head of my
cock and make her lick the pre-cum dripping from the tip.
But Maxim is waiting, and I refuse to give her any more attention than
necessary today.
Instead, like the ass I am, I bend down and shout her name. “Camille!
Get the fuck up.”
 She bolts upright, barely missing my face.
Her tits on full display have me second-guessing my intentions. When
she turns her head, fire burns behind her eyes.
“Was that necessary?” She stares at me as though I’m crazy, searching
my face.
Before heading to the bathroom, I point at the door and say, “Take the
sheets. Maxim is waiting at the door.” I turn on my heel, and my lip quirks
up at the side, pleased with the fact she looks so enraged right now.
I strip off my pants and then step into the shower, allowing the water to
wash over me while my hand finds my solid cock. I close my eyes and give
in to the image of me fucking those precious lips.
My fist tightens as I thrust my cock into my hand to the image of me
fucking her.
Fucking my perfect Mafia wife.

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Chapter Nine

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Camille

W hen Luca left to go in the shower, I stripped the bed sheets and
folded them with a grimace at the pink stains. I shook my head in disgust,
unwilling to let my mind wander back to last night. What a screwed-up
tradition.
I threw on a robe and practically shoved the sheets into an amused-
looking Maxim’s hands. Slamming the door for good measure, I stomped
around the room, tidying up the mess while his lordship showered in peace.
Now I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for the shower for what seems
like an eternity. What the hell could he possibly be doing in there?
I nibble at the skin on my finger and try to ignore the tenderness
between my legs. He didn’t want to make it easy for me, that’s for sure.
The bathroom door opens, and Luca strolls out looking like an Adonis
with his towel resting low on the v of his hips. A perfectly sculptured body
with olive gleaming skin has me wanting to lick my lips, but I refuse to pay
him attention.
I feel my cheeks pinken, so I divert my gaze.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” His husky voice sends a shiver down my
spine.
No “Good morning?” No “How are you feeling?” God, I hate him.
Lifting my chin, I reply with a confidence I don’t feel. “I was waiting
for the shower.”
His eyes narrow on me. “We don’t have time for fucking showers.
We’re leaving in three minutes.” He stomps toward the closet and
rummages through his luggage.
“You had time for a shower.” I point out, then grimace.
His head pops out from around the doorframe, and his angry glare
surges into mine, making me gulp. “Because I got up early. I won’t stand
for tardiness, Camille.” He spits my name like venom.
I scoff at his words; he and I both know he didn’t get up early through
his own actions, but I let it slide because pointing it out probably won’t do
me any favors.
Instead, I move around the room while ignoring the movements of my
husband and start getting ready.
When his towel drops, I can’t help but scan his tight ass as he walks
around the room butt naked.
“Besides, I like the thought of your pussy and thighs bloody for me.” He
gives me a maniacal grin.
“You’re sick!” I spit.
Luca rushes at me, slamming me against the wall with his hand wrapped
around my throat. My body shakes under his touch as his dark eyes drill
into me, and my throat goes dry and my body quivers.
“I’m not the one with poison running through my veins, Camille. If I’m
sick, what’s your brother?” His lip tips up at the end, and my lip trembles at
his sneer.
Air rushes from my lungs as he releases me. “Dead,” I whisper.
But he heard. He throws his head back on a maniacal laugh that has the
hairs on my arms standing on end. “Just where he belongs.”
He turns and tugs on some boxers, letting the waistband snap into place.
His thick cock is hard, and heat travels up my face from thinking about it as
I remain frozen against the wall.
“Princess, you’re meant to be getting ready, not ogling me,” he mocks
in my direction, and I glare back at him. Luca laughs condescendingly, but
it fades as his face drops deadpan when I step forward and untie my robe,
pushing it from my shoulders.
Now he’s the one ogling me as I use my body to my advantage and take
my time gathering my clothes while pretending, despite what he might
think, I’m confident in my skin.
 I put extra sway into my hips as I saunter into the closet.
“Hurry the fuck up!” he snaps, and I bite into my lip to stifle a giggle.
Luca Varros might hate me, but he wants my body. That much is
obvious, and I intend on using it to my full advantage.

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 LUCA

I sit on the edge of the bed, firing a text off to Paulo to make sure the car
has been brought around, and he responds that they’re ready and waiting for
us.
Fucking waiting for us. If I hate anything in the world other than the
Ricci family, it’s being late.
When she strolls out of the closet clothed, I’m disappointed I didn’t
have a show of her getting ready, yet relieved I didn’t. I sure as shit don’t
want her to know how desirable she is.
I drag a finger over my lip as I think about this strange attraction I have
to my enemy. It has to be because I hate her so much. The lack of control of
my own body is foreign, and I despise the feeling of recklessness when I’m
normally so self-controlled.
My jaw tics as my gaze travels up her body. She wears a slim-fitting
summer dress that finishes above her knees. Above her fucking knees! Did
they teach her nothing in that family of hers?
The dress tightens around her tits, and my mouth waters at the thought
of ripping it open and allowing her generous breasts relief from the
restraining material. I grind my teeth as my hard cock aches in my pants.
Un-fucking-believable.
 Annoyed, I drag a hand through my hair and avert my gaze as I storm
toward the door. Not only pissed at being late but also with the way my
wife dresses. I need distance from her, that’s for sure.
The swift clicking of her heels comes from behind me, but I continue
ignoring her as I make my way down the corridor and past the staff that will
now enter our room and pack our belongings for us.
“Luca, can you wait up?” Her voice is soft and hurried.
I bang my hand down on the elevator, and a slight childish relief washes
over me when the doors open before she approaches. Stepping inside, I
press the button for the underground carpark, but as the doors are about to
close, she steps over the threshold and inside. Her coconut scent fills my
senses, and I wonder if it’s the lotion she uses.
“You could have waited,” she grinds out breathlessly.
My nostrils flare, and when I glance her way, she glares back at me with
a reddened, angry expression in my direction. Her arms are crossed over her
chest, and that only highlights her full tits.
I chuckle in amusement; she’s unaware how turned on I am right now.
How I’d love nothing more but to force her to her knees and make her
choke on my thick cock before coming all over her pretty little face and
watching my cum drip down to those glorious heaving tits of hers.
She huffs when I don’t respond and turns to face the doors as the
elevator descends.
When it pings and the doors open, I stride ahead, ignoring her presence
once again.
A blacked-out limousine waits for us. I nod at my driver, Paulo. He’s
loyal and has been with me for over fifteen years. He steps aside, opening
the door for me to climb in.
As soon as my ass hits the seat, I pull out my phone and ignore her
settling into the vehicle. I’m aware she’s on her phone too and make a
mental note to discuss her use of technology with Enzo. Then again, why
the fuck should I care?
We’re about an hour into the journey when, out of the corner of my eye,
I notice her fidgeting, then wince. The words tumble from my mouth
without thinking. “Are you hurting?”
I feel her eyes on me, but I refuse to acknowledge her or her situation
further.
“No.” Her voice is confident, but she darts her eyes away from me,
which makes me believe she refuses to acknowledge her own discomfort. I
sense the searing glare coming off her, and my lip forms into a knowing
smirk. She releases a small disgruntled huff, and I feel fucking triumphant
that I piss her off without so much as trying.
“Good, I intend on using your pussy whenever I feel the need,” I throw
out as I launch into tapping out a text to Bren O’Connell, the Irish Mafia
Don, confirming our meeting next week. I imagine he wants to discuss the
recent conflict amongst the Russian Mafia. Me taking out Ravlek hasn’t
helped matters, but he kidnapped my sister; I had little time to collaborate
an appropriate plan. My fingers toy with the ring on my hand, a replica of
my brother’s, courtesy of my sister Eleanor, and something I’ll treasure
forever. The chunky ring is a family tree, and the meaning behind it feels
significant.
Without thinking, I lift my head in her direction. Her fingers work over
her phone furiously, her lips in a tight line. Whatever she’s replying to is
pissing her off, and I wonder if she’s complaining to her family about our
marriage already. I smirk at the thought. Her reddened chest heaves as she
throws her phone into her purse.
I take in her glistening skin, and as I track each breath, my cock
becomes harder, and I have to adjust my position and widen my legs to
accommodate it. My hands ball into fists when I realize she isn’t wearing a
bra. No, her nipples are on display for every fucker to see, peaked against
the fabric of the dress.
“What. In. The. Ever. Living. Fuck. Are. You. Wearing?”

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 CAMILLE

I wince when my butt touches the leather of the seat. Even sitting down
hurts. Deciding to distract myself from the handsome monster my body
seems drawn toward, I take out my phone.
His arrogance and ignorance irk me, and I refuse to waste my time
telling him so. Besides, knowing what I know about Mafia men, it wouldn’t
go down well, and my husband is unpredictable, at best.
His fresh cologne fills the limo as though he bathed in it. Anger boils
inside me at the thought that I was unable to wash myself this morning, yet
he’s sat there looking all fresh and smelling like he’s been swimming in a
pool of masculine fragrance while I’m covered in his scent and the blood of
my innocence.
Checking my phone, my uncle’s secretary has replied to my text asking
if I could continue my studies as an online student. I realize I won’t be able
to continue attending college, but if I could just finish my degree, it
wouldn’t feel like the last few years of hard work has been a total waste of
time.
Gloria: Your uncle tells me to inform you that you need to concentrate
on making your husband happy. You are Mafia, after all.
I glare at the screen, seething. Why did he let me do my studies in the
first place? Why let me have some semblance of a normal life only to rip it
all out from beneath me without so much as a moment’s notice.
Me: Tell my uncle nothing I do will make my husband happy and he
knows that. Can you ask him to at the very least divert my studies please?
Fury builds inside me, traveling up my throat, the ball lodged there
expanding makes me want to scream in frustration. I throw my phone into
my purse, knowing I won’t get a reply.
I never do when I attempt to challenge them.
“What. In. The. Ever. Living. Fuck. Are. You. Wearing?” His tone
makes me jolt in fright. It takes a moment for my mind to register what he’s
saying. I stare back at him wide-eyed at his outburst. His black orbs so dark,
so deep, it’s like I’m looking into the pits of hell. His nostrils flare with
rage, and his hands are balled into tight fists beside him as his chest rises
rapidly.
“Are you fucking deaf?” His bulging eyes stun me as I take in the veins
protruding on his neck. He’s clearly struggling to rein in his temper, and
that thought alone unnerves me.
I glance down at my dress, unsure of the issue. It’s conservative enough,
something I regularly wear around my family. When I see them.
Confused, I glance back up but wish I hadn’t. He seethes, the heat
penetrating from his tightened body like a coiled predator waiting to strike.
I swallow away my unease.
“You look like a common whore with your tits on display. In fact, my
whores dress better.” His words make my stomach roll, and I fight the urge
to cry.
He leans forward on his elbows, his voice is so low and deadly I hang
on every word with panic rising in my chest. “Let’s get something straight.
When you leave the property, I expect you to look like a Mafia wife.” His
cruel tone continues. “Not a slut. Not a fucking whore. Do you
understand?” He raises an eyebrow in question, and I nod like I’m a puppet
on a damn string.
 He scans my face before the tension in his body appears to ease, and he
relaxes back in his seat as though the outburst never happened.
His fingers glide over his phone, and I sit there in stunned silence,
transfixed by his mere deadly presence.
Drawn to the anger consuming him because maybe, maybe I’m seeing
something inside him that mirrors my feelings.

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Chapter Ten

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

T he limousine turns onto the estate. As with every other Mafia home,
armed guards are at security posts. I watch out of the window as we pass
through the iron gates and the vehicle rolls up a tree-lined driveway that
seems to go on for miles.
I clock the cameras disguised amongst the foliage, and the familiar laser
security system makes me scoff when I realize that opposing families
actually have the same system. I wonder if they know this.
The mansion comes into view, and I swallow, feeling out of depth at the
imposing structure.
Large double wooden doors open as the car comes to a standstill.
Nerves rack through me. I’ve never been on enemy territory before, and the
stark understanding sends a shudder through me.
“Move your ass, Princess.” His gravelly voice jolts me into action, and I
shuffle toward the open door.
The sun hits me, blinding me until I move my hand to shield my eyes,
and I’m caught off guard when a firm hand grips onto my arm and marches
me toward the mansion doors.
I hiss at Luca’s firm grip.
My gaze clashes with Maxim’s, who’s leaning against the entrance with
a sly smirk on his face, clearly enjoying the way I’m being manhandled.
I’m frog-marched up the stone steps and through the doors.
His men line the foyer walls, each looking in our direction. “Heads
bowed!” Luca barks, and immediately, their gazes are lowered in response
to his firm voice.
He drags me up the marble stairs, my feet struggling to keep up. “Can’t
even fucking walk properly. How I expected you to dress appropriately is
beyond me. That family throws degenerate shits out and expects them to
function in the Mafia. They need wiping off the face of the fucking earth,”
he grumbles under the clacking of my heels.
My stomach churns. Referring to my family as scum and discussing
wiping them out makes me whimper. Knowing he’s capable of it almost
causes my body to slump then and there.
When we reach the landing, he turns us down a corridor to the right.
“You’re down here.” A sigh of relief sails through me at the thought of
having my own space and not having to share with him.
He throws open a door and pushes me inside, and I stumble to stay
upright.
“This is your room. In there”—he points to a set of double doors—“are
clothes I expect you to wear.”
“I refuse to wear something you dress your whores in!” I spit, glaring at
him.
His jaw tightens, and he breathes out through his nose, appearing to try
and control himself.
I take a step back. “You’ll wear what I fucking provide.” His voice is
sharp and clear, leaving no room for objection.
“You can leave the room when you dress appropriately. Until then, you
stay in here. My men shouldn’t have to avert their eyes and risk being shot
in case they get a full frontal of my wife’s tits.” My body stiffens in shock,
and my mouth falls open.
He made his men look away because of the way I am dressed. I glance
down at my dress again in confusion.
“Shut your mouth before I stuff it with my fucking cock,” he seethes,
and my eyes widen, and my mouth clamps shut.
“Your meal will be served at seven. You have access to all the house
when dressed appropriately apart from my office and quarters.”
His eyes refuse to meet mine as he taps on his phone. “You’ll have a
guard, Ches. He’ll be stationed outside your room. He’ll escort you
shopping or whatever the fuck you women do all day.” I grind my teeth at
his ignorance. How dare he?
“But you’ll return in time for dinner each evening. Do you understand
me?” His black eyes snap over to mine, and when his palms twitch beside
him like he wants to wring my neck, I feel the sudden urge to answer him.
“Of course.” My voice cracks with nervousness, and his shoulders relax
at my compliance.
I feel a little triumphant over the fact I’ll have some freedom, but I try
not to show it. I’ll let him think I’m another Mafia princess who spends her
days shopping and meeting with friends, if need be, no matter how much it
pains me.
“Thank you.”
His eyes narrow on me, as though trying to gauge the sudden change in
my attitude.
His phone beeps, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding
when he becomes distracted once again.
Without saying goodbye, he turns on his heel and walks out the
bedroom door. My shoulders fall in relief as I exhale.
I take in my surroundings and almost feel jovial, considering I expected
to be sharing his room and being confined to his property with no freedom.
Casting my gaze around the room, I register the large four-poster bed
with crisp white sheets void of any pattern or color. I scrunch my nose at
the clinical set up. Does he fuck his whores in here too?
I grimace but refuse to let my mind wander.
My uncle had reassured me I wouldn’t be disrespected. That as soon as
an heir was provided, our relationship could change but not before.
I try to imagine Luca as a father, but I shudder. The man is cold,
calculating, and dark, and there’s no part of me that thinks it’s a good idea
for him to have a child. Yet I have no say in it at all.
 The sooner that happens, the sooner I can have freedom, and hopefully
my child too. Although I know deep down Luca would never allow that to
happen, I refuse to accept it. I need to take each day as it comes. With how
much Luca despises me, I know it will be hell.
Survive each day.
Starting with how to dress in what Luca deems appropriate.
I fling open the closet doors and gasp at the size of the closet. Stepping
inside with a shake of my head, I realize this is beyond ridiculous.
The room is as big as the bedroom. With a sofa in the center facing the
mirror. I imagine Luca sitting here, and I close my eyes with a strong pang
of jealousy ripping through me at the thought of him watching one of his
women get dressed in here.
I trail my fingers over the fabric of the dresses, relieved to see each has
a tag still.
My feet stop when I recognize the latest dress from the designer Shay
Ling, her collections are sought after, and limited editions can become an
auctioneer’s dream.
I jump at a soft knock on the closet door and then turn to face a small
woman in her sixties with streaky silver-and-black hair in an unruly bun.
Her stern face roams over me, eyeing me from top to toe before she tsks
under her breath, curling her lip.
“I’m Maria,” she finally snaps out.
I tamper down the ball of anxiety that’s creeping up my throat again.
Taking a deep breath, I soften my voice. “Nice to meet you. I’m Camille.”
Her sharp dark eyes glare at me. “I know who you are. You’re one of
them.”
I bite my lip, trying to rein in my temper as my chest heaves, desperate
to hurl hurt in their direction too. Can they not see I hate them just as much?
They took my brother from me and filled the organization with vile lies, yet
I have to remain silent if I want to stay alive. My head throbs, and I bite the
inside of my cheek to stop myself from speaking our truth.
Instead, I turn my head and close my eyes, allowing the veil to drop in
place before opening them with a renewed purpose.
To make my stay as comfortable as humanly possible.
“Luca, sends me to make sure you dress, like wife.” Her speech is
sketchy, laced in an Italian accent as she flicks her finger toward the
dresses.
I nod at her with a tight smile I don’t feel.
She tusks under her breath once again, and her eyebrows raise when she
takes in my chest. I cross my arms over myself protectively.
“Look like a common whore.”
My eyes bug out at the accusation, and I open my mouth to respond, but
she holds up her hand, stopping me. The shock at her rude action has my
mouth dropping open further. “I help you bring your husband to his knees.
Yes?” She pushes past me with a knowing smile and rummages through the
closet.
While I stand back and allow her, I scoff at the notion of Luca on his
knees.
I can’t even begin to imagine that ever happening.
A Mafia man would never kneel for a woman. It’s simply unheard of.
Never.

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Chapter Eleven

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Luca

A s I stride away from my wife’s bedroom, I feel the need to kill

someone, maim them, take out all my pent-up aggression on them to relieve
some of my internal rage.
The way my men’s eyes lit up when they saw her sent what I can only
describe as a tsunami of jealous fury boiling through my veins. My grip
tightened on her arm so tight I knew I was hurting her, but I didn’t care. I
wanted to punish her for disrespecting herself and me, but somehow, I
reined in my temper.
In the Mafia life, it’s customary we don’t hurt women, and I stand by
this, but something inside me becomes unraveled where she’s concerned.
Perhaps it’s the knowledge of her blood; perhaps I want to hurt her,
punish her for her brother’s twisted ways because I never got to hurt him.
To make him pay for his crimes through her.
The fact that one of my men put a bullet in him before I had chance to
hurt him pains me and haunts my dreams.
I storm into the kitchen and throw my phone onto the counter, pissed at
Lorenzo for wanting us to attend a meal at his estate next week. I pinch the
bridge of my nose and my chest heaves. I don’t know how much more of
this fucking shit I can stand.
Not only was this wife thrust upon me, but she’s my arch-fucking-
nemesis, and now he insists on me showing her off as a wife to be proud of
when I want nothing more than to forget she even exists. Lies. How could I
forget she exists with a face made of perfection? And a body crafted to
entice even saints from all things holy, turning them into sinners in the blink
of an eye. She’s poison. Temptation.
I lick my lips as my balls throb. Jesus.
 “Luca. Is she getting to you?” I snap my eyes open to Maxim studying
me.
I shake my head. “No. It’s fine.”
Maria approaches me, her apron messy with flour. “She have allergies?”
I grimace. No idea if my wife has allergies or not.
“Does it matter?” Maxim chuckles to himself, earning a condescending
glare from me.
“Of course it fucking matters. The last thing Luca wants is her family
claiming he’s trying to poison her!” Enzo snaps out.
He’s right. I rub at my throbbing temple.
I give Maria a shrug. “Figure it out, will you.” It’s not a question, she
realizes, and gives me a firm nod before going back to her rolling pin.
“She’s to be fed at seven.”
Maria stops rolling the pastry. “You eat at six.”
I glare back at her, but she’s one of few people who ignores my glares
and refuses to step down. Instead, she waves the rolling pin in my direction.
“You need to eat with wife. This way you find out about family. Sì?” Her
eyes gleam with intent, and her words play over in my mind. Maybe I could
use this time to gather information about her family. Maybe she’ll let
something slip in my quest for uncovering their deceit. Then I can pounce at
the perfect opportunity.
I turn to Enzo and Maxim. “We’re eating at seven.” Maxim responds
with a roll of his eyes and a groan while Enzo smirks, his eyes alight in jest.
“Maria, you’re going to have to go through her closet with her. She’s no
fucking idea how to dress, and I refuse to have her disrespect me,” I grit out
as the anger floods back in when I consider her attire.
Maria gives me a gentle nod while I turn my attention back to my men,
determined to block out the image of her in that dress.
“Do we have someone for me to torture?” I cock a brow in Enzo’s
direction.
 His face breaks out into a knowing smile. “We do. One of Ravlek’s
street runners.” His eyebrows dance, and I smirk back at him.
“Good. I have tension to unleash.” I roll up the sleeves of my shirt and
crack my neck from side to side.
“You could take it out on your wife?” Maxim grins.
“Shut the fuck up, douche.” Enzo swipes the back of Maxim’s head.
My spine straightens when I consider Maxim thinking about Camille in
that way. I bite into my cheek when my mind once again replays the way
my men’s heads turned in her direction. I should have taken my jacket and
covered her bulging tits from their view.
Yes, a good torture session is exactly what I need.
“Maria. Make sure she’s fucking dressed appropriately for dinner,” I
throw over my shoulder as we make our way outside and to the basement.
There’s no way I’ll allow anyone to see my wife like that again.
Anyone but me, at least.

The Russian pisses himself the moment I step into the dank, dark basement.
The stench of rotting flesh I’ve become accustomed to fills the room, but
from the looks of the vomit in his cage, he clearly hasn’t.
Maybe I should put Camille in here as retribution for the blood flowing
through her veins. I imagine the pampered princess would crumble and beg
for forgiveness. Something I don’t see happening from her soon, without
some harsh punishment, at least.
“Pass me the blowtorch,” I bark at one of my soldiers.
I take in the man shackled to the wall. This lousy piece of shit not only
ran drugs for the Russians but dealt in human trafficking too. Something
that makes even my skin crawl. His eyes widen in fear, and my chest puffs
out in pride. I love the fear in their eyes, love the way they’re willing to
give me anything for me not to follow through on the torture.
“Please, what can I do?” he snivels, a messy combination of snot, blood,
and tears streaming down his face.
I shake my head in disgust at the worthless piece of shit. My men would
never crumble and scare so easily.
Firing up the torch, I smile with delight when his body begins to shake.
I breathe in his fear and allow my body to relax as his body seizes with a
roaring scream of pain when the flame meets his bare skin. Fuck, how I love
the smell of burning flesh.
I move closer, excitement rippling through me as I enjoy making
torturous burns over his skin, littering him in open welts, the skin melting
away, leaving a bloody gaping hole.
I take a step back with pride when he finally passes out. There’s not
much point in continuing until he’s conscious again. The pleasure just isn’t
there.
Enzo steps forward with the hose, turning on the icy-cold water and
blowing it at him full pelt in his face.
He gasps, his eyes bulge, and his mouth gapes open. He’s devoid of
feeling until his eyes settle on me, allowing me to smile once again as his
face falls in fear and mine lights up in glee.
I take out my hate on this man. This nothing. A wasteless piece of shit.
Because I can’t take it out on her. Not yet, at least.
But her time will come.

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Chapter Twelve

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Luca

M y jaw tightens in annoyance. I glance down at my watch once again,

seven ten. Maxim lets out a low chuckle, earning him a fierce glare from
me. If he wasn’t my brother, I’d hang his saggy balls from the end of his
cock and see how amusing he finds that.
The door creaks open, and my breath is stolen from my lungs. She’s
wearing some black shirt dress with a belt cinched around her trim waist,
emphasizing her supple hips. Her chest is adequately covered yet still
makes my mouth water. My cock jumps in anticipation.
Her hair is in loose, flowing waves down to her hips, and her face is free
of makeup, pleasing me. I like her natural beauty, unlike the whores I’m
used to. She wears a coat of gloss on her lips, and it makes me wonder what
flavor it might be. As my eyes travel up to her face, I notice her pink-tinged
cheeks and the flash of vulnerability in her eyes. I take in her wringing
hands, and irritation creeps up my spine.
“Sit the fuck down. You’re late,” I bark at her, causing her to jump.
She pulls out the chair beside me and takes the seat, glancing around the
table. I don’t like her eyes on my men. The mere thought of her showing
interest in them in any way, shape, or form causes my muscles to tighten to
the point of pain. My neck itches for me to rub it, to give myself some relief
to the tension building. But I won’t allow myself to show how she affects
me.
The fact that my cock is so hard simply by being in her presence pisses
me off. My gaze sears into her. “Do you have a problem with time
keeping?” My voice is dark, low, and deadly.
Her eyes snap up to mine, and she gulps. She takes a moment before she
replies. “Not normally, no.”
 I hold her gaze, unwilling to let her get off so easily when I told her my
expectations. “So, what’s been the problem?”
I can practically see the clogs in her small brain moving as she searches
for an answer I might deem acceptable. An excuse, no doubt.
I stare at her in awe as her chest rises and falls rapidly and pink travels
across her exposed skin, and I wonder if it’s reached her nipples or not.
My throat goes dry waiting for her to answer. The room silent.
“I drop vase. Big vase. I drop.” My eyes snap over to Maria, who’s
struggling with a tray of food. “She cut finger, helping.” Maria places the
tray on the table. She moves quickly, drawing Camille’s hand into hers and
holding up a bandaged finger. “See?”
My hand tightens on my glass. My wife should not be picking up other
people’s mistakes. Shards of glass, no less. My temple pulsates.
I grit my teeth. “You should be more fucking careful!” My voice booms
through the room, surprising even myself.
Camille averts her gaze, and that alone pisses me off. Almost dismissing
me from the conversation.
“Eat. Before it goes cold.” Maria motions toward my plate. But I find it
difficult to look away from Camille.
When Maria places her meal down in front of her, she offers her a
small, genuine smile. “Thank you.”
I seethe with rage at how she treats me with such contempt, yet my
fucking maid gets her respect.
“So, Camille. You’ve been away at college the past few years. What
have you been studying?” My interest piques at Enzo’s words. How the
fuck does he know this, yet I know nothing of the sort?
She dabs the napkin at the corner of her mouth. “I was studying
medicine.”
Enzo’s eyebrows raise, and he lets out a low whistle.
“You’re twenty-one, right?” Maxim asks.
 Camille finishes her food before replying, “That’s right.” Her tone is
bland, obvious she doesn’t want to make conversation.
“So, you’ve been at college, how long?”
“Five years. I graduated early. A high achiever, if you like.” She shrugs
like it’s nothing.
Maxim scoffs. “For what that’s worth. What was the point in all of that
hard work when you were always destined to be a Mafia wife?” He’s right,
of course, and my lip twitches at his analogy.
Camille’s body tenses and her eyes narrow, and my cock aches at the
fight behind her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I have passion outside of this
world you all choose to accept with no fight.”
Maxim laughs before his expression falls serious, then he leans over the
table. “And yet here you sit. Next to a man that despises you, hates every
breath you take, and you’re married to him. So much for standing up to
what you believe in.” He tilts his glass in her direction in mock salute
before taking a drink of his wine.
I watch Camille, the way her throat slowly works as though she’s
calculating her move, and I realize she’s far more than the wallflower we all
perceived her to be.
“You and I both know we had no choice in the matter. What I’m saying
is, the things we do have a choice in, you choose not to do anything.” She
lifts her glass in a mock salute back to his and gives him a cunning glare
that slices through the room and enrages my brother.
He launches his glass against the wall behind Camille, but this time, she
doesn’t so much as flinch, letting me know she’s used to such outbursts.
She stares him down, and her defiant eyes make me pulsate with a need to
kiss her and squeeze the life from her neck.
Maxim pushes back in his chair, sending it crashing to the floor. “I’m
fucking out. I’m not going to sit here and be disrespected by such scum.”
He storms from the room and slams the door behind him.
 I try to rein in my temper at his outburst. He’s always been so flippant,
with complete lack of control of his emotions, which makes him weak.
Whenever he is challenged and he doesn’t get the upper hand, he throws
a tantrum. It’s unacceptable and something I will speak to him about yet
again. I grind my teeth, then glance at Enzo, and he gives me a knowing
look. Not for the first time, we agree on Maxim’s lack of leadership skills.
Lack of control.
“You wanted to become a doctor?” Enzo turns his attention back to
Camille and continues as though Maxim’s departure didn’t take place.
“No.” We wait for her to elaborate, but when she doesn’t, I give Enzo a
shake of my head, asking him to drop the subject. It doesn’t matter what she
wanted to do now anyway; her studies have come to an end, and she’s
where she was always meant to be.
A pawn in a game.
A game I don’t intend on losing.

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 CAMILLE

I push the potatoes around my plate. In truth, the meal is wonderful, but I
can’t stomach another bite. When I entered the room, nausea had been
rolling through me in waves at the thought of eating with him and his men.
And when Maxim picked a fight, I had no intention of backing down.
He thinks I was born and bred simply to provide a Mafia heir, and
where he might be right to some extent, that’s not my sole existence.
I’m so much more than a pawn in our family’s games, and I intend on
showing it. One way or another.
“Is there a problem with the food?” My eyes latch onto Luca’s sharp
face. Whatever answer I give won’t be good enough, he knows this as much
as I do, and yet he still asks.
I clear my throat. “It’s fine. Thank you. I’m full, that’s all.”
His eyes narrow on me. “You’ve barely eaten a fucking thing.” He
pounds his fist on the table, making me jump. “Eat!”
I swallow away the bundle of nerves creeping up my throat and give
him a small nod while cutting into the vegetables.
Each mouthful is filled with contempt, but I finish my meal and place
the knife and fork beside one another.
Luca casually wipes each corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Would
you like dessert or are you going to ask to be excused?”
 I find the hem of my dress beneath the table, and I squeeze it hard
between my fingers. My temper skyrockets at his arrogance, but after years
of dealing with Mafia men, I tamper it down. Instead offering him a sweet,
serene smile he wasn’t expecting, judging by the look of shock flashing in
his eyes. “Please, may I be excused, Luca?”
He takes a slow, calculated sip of his wine, and Enzo’s eyes volley
between mine and Luca’s.
Taking his time, Luca places his wine glass back on the table. His black
orbs drill into me, and my heart races under his scrutiny.
His fingertip skims over the top of the wine glass, and I want to burst
into a fit of seething rage at his need to possess me.
He glances down at his finger before letting out a steady breath and
casting his eyes back up to mine. They hold me hostage beneath the pits of
his darkness, pulling the air from my lungs, holding me captive. “You may.”
Two words. Two words that make me want to take my nails to his
handsome, sharp face and tear it up.
I push back my chair and rush away before the ass changes his mind.
The sound of his and Enzo’s laughter cut through me as I make my way
upstairs with tears brimming my eyes. But I refuse to allow them to fall; I
refuse to show weakness.
They may say keep your loved ones close but your enemies closer, but
I’ve no intentions of getting close to Luca, and I’m pretty sure he feels the
same way.

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Chapter Thirteen

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Luca

I let out another fierce blow to my brother’s face. His head snaps back at
the force behind the punch, and a groan leaves his throat.
I won’t have him disrespect me, and he knows this, yet he still pushes
my buttons, leaving me no choice but to put him back in line.
“Fuck, Luca. Okay, I get it.”
I step back and glare at him as he swipes away the blood dripping from
the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. His chest heaves. “I get
it.”
“Do you, though?” My eyes drill into him. “You stormed from the room
like a toddler the minute you were questioned.”
Rage pulsates from him, and I feel the heat from his eyes. “The bitch
was asking for trouble,” he spits out.
My heart does a weird jump at him calling Camille a bitch. She may be
the enemy, but she’s my wife, and him disrespecting her is disrespect
toward me. Everyone in the Mafia knows that.
“She was my fucking sister too!” He stabs his finger into his chest, his
emotions playing out all over his face. My sister Eleanor had always been
Maxim’s weakness. The bond they shared was indescribable, and her death
was something he never came to terms with, and I guess that’s why I allow
him such concessions. My mouth goes dry at the thought of his pain, his
expression solemn, desperate even. I turn away, unable to deal with him any
longer.
I head toward the door, and as I reach the handle, I turn my head to the
side to allow him to hear my words. “Leave Camille to me. I’ll see that
she’s punished.” It’s not a command, and he knows it. I watch him nod from
the corner of my eye before I walk through the door, ready to deal with my
wife. The fact my cock jumps at the prospect of delivering her punishment
is a testament of my attraction to her. Something that annoys the hell out of
me.
Something I hate.

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 CAMILLE

After retreating to my room, I made quick work of removing my clothes

and putting on a white lace negligee before dropping my ass into bed.
I pull my phone from the dresser beside my bed and scan through my
recent coursework. I might not be studying anymore, but it doesn’t stop me
from pursuing my other ambitions. The ambition.
Determination seeps into my veins when I replay Max’s smug face
telling me my studies had been a waste of time. The misogynism in the
Mafia world is as fresh as it was the day it was born. Another firm reason I
hate the life so very much and another reason for me to throw myself into
my studies.
I’m a little over one hundred pages in when my bedroom door flies open
so hard it ricochets off the wall, and I drop my phone onto the bed in shock.
Luca stands in the doorway like a dark reaper waiting to claim me, the
force of his stare making my breath stutter. His black eyes are trained on
me, and the tension radiating from his body makes me squirm and my pulse
quicken with anxiety.
He’s not happy.
No, scrap that, he’s damn right furious. He strides toward the bed and
throws the sheet off me. The muscles coiled tight on his tattooed neck have
me quivering, and when he grabs my ankle, I gasp. He drags me down the
bed until my ass hits the floor with a thud.
I stare up at him in shock, and trembles rack through my body. His
nostrils flare with rage, and my mouth goes dry as I sink under his darkness.
His hand snaps out and grabs my wrist, hoisting me up onto shaky feet.
He spins me and presses me into the bed with a hand at my back.
I turn my head. “L-Luca?”
“Shut the fuck up and take your punishment.” He makes quick work of
tugging his belt from his pants, and I watch at an awkward angle, and he
folds it in half, like he does this often. I close my eyes at the thought, but
snap my eyes wide open when he lifts my negligee over my ass.
Holy shit. He’s going to whip my ass.
I try to get up, but he pushes me back down. “You disrespected me by
being late. You overstepped assisting the help.” I want to scoff at his words,
but my throat is so dry I’m unable to. “You argued with my brother.” He
skims his fingers over the globe of my ass, causing me to break out in goose
bumps, and I whimper at what’s to come. I know he heard it because his
fingers stop, and he squeezes my ass cheek hard before giving it a slap that
makes my teeth clench and body jolt.
“Stay fucking still while I punish you, Camille.”
I close my eyes and cling onto the sheets as his belt whips through the
air, and the searing burn against my bare skin brings tears to my eyes. He
raises the belt again, landing with a loud crack and an unmistaken whimper
from me. My chest barely finishes relaxing before he delivers another crack
and then another, until my body is coiled so tight I can barely feel the pain
through numbness any longer.
My eyes open with trepidation at the sound of his zipper, I peer over my
shoulder as he fumbles with his pants. They fall to his ankles, and I watch
gobsmacked as he lifts his thick, heavy cock from his boxers.
 It’s the first time I’ve seen it, and I grimace at the thought of that thing
entering me. No wonder I woke so sore and bloody after he took me. His
eyes snap to mine, and they’re so dark and sinister I recoil.
He leans over me, and I expect him to surge inside me, but he pushes
my face into the mattress instead. With a roar, he tears my negligee in half,
leaving me exposed to him. His fingers grip the back of my neck, entwining
with my hair and making me flinch at the sharp pain of my strands tangled
in his large palm.
His grunts fill the room, and I wonder if he isn’t going to have sex with
me, after all. Instead, he’s leaning over my body jacking off. The thought
excites me, and that realization shocks me. Am I excited at the thought of
him jacking off over me or by the fact we aren’t going to have sex?
“Fuck, Camille. Your body is made for sinners like me to ruin.” I feel
him move faster, and his weight becomes heavier. “I’m going to ruin this
little body. Ruin your little fucking cunt.” My heart quickens at his
intoxicating, heady voice. The sheer lack of control he seems to have right
now makes my stomach flutter with excitement.
The bed creaks beneath us as his body moves in rhythm with the
thrusting of his hips. “Fuck. I’m going to come. I’m going to come so
fucking hard on you.” I imagine his lips parted, his eyes crazed, and his
body strung tight. “Fuck, that’s it. Drown in my cum, Camille. Fucking
drown in it.” He grunts, and his movements stutter as I lie stoically still and
his warmth splashes onto my spine. As his tight grip leaves my neck, his
wetness coats my ass. My raging, burning ass.
Then, with no consideration for my pain, his thick palm roughly rubs it
into my tender flesh, gripping each ass cheek with emphasis.
He bends over me so he’s close to my ear. “And don’t even think about
washing it off.” His dark voice is full of menace.
Just as quickly, he withdraws from me, leaving me feeling hurt, dirty,
and used.
 But above all, I feel his absence more.
I turn my head to see him tug up his pants. He doesn’t so much as look
in my direction as he turns on his heels and leaves the room.
And now, I allow the first tear to fall.

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Chapter Fourteen

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Camille

I wince at the brightness of the sun peeking through the curtains. On a

groan, I roll over to face away from the light. Hearing a scuffle, my eyes
shoot open, and I turn my head to find Maria tugging back the curtains.
She glances over her shoulder. “Up! It’s late. Get up. Luca wants you
up.” The urgency in her voice has me rushing from the bed, but I panic and
throw the loose bed sheet around me to hide my naked body from her. My
ass stings with each step I take as I hobble toward the bathroom.
As soon as the door clicks closed, I relax against the wood. My whole
body feels bruised and spent from his punishment and pleasure. A shot of
unwanted desire races through me when I consider how he might have
looked when he came. His control slips when he’s sexually amped up, and I
can’t help but wonder if he’s like this with every woman he’s been with. I
certainly hope not.
“Hurry!” Maria bellows from behind the door, startling me. “No time
for shower. Luca says.”
My shoulders drop in defeat as his words play over in my mind. “And
don’t even think about washing it off.”

Each step I take down the marble staircase hurts. Luca didn’t hold back
with his punishment, or at least I don’t think he did. I grimace, imagining it
could be so much worse than it is right now.
I open the dining room door to Luca glaring in my direction; the man
has a perpetual look of disgust on his face. I force past the lump of
nervousness in my throat and take a seat. “Do you always sleep in so late?”
 I take a sip of the fresh orange juice before answering. Gathering my
thoughts and confidence, determined to remain strong in his presence
despite not feeling it.
“I don’t count eight a.m. on a Sunday late.” I don’t give him eye contact
as I speak. Instead, I remain focused on eating the fruit salad placed in front
of me by Maria. She leaves the room, and the air is thick with a tension I
can’t place, but I don’t like it.
Eventually, I gather the courage to glance over at him. I wish I hadn’t,
his eyes are so trained on me I squirm, then wince with pain in doing so.
His lips curl up at the sides at knowing he’s the cause of my discomfort.
“Struggling?” He lifts an eyebrow in question.
I slide my tongue over my lip before replying. His gaze seems to follow
the action, and desire flares in his eyes, and I gulp.
“It’s raw, Luca! Have you not heard of aftercare?” I spit in annoyance,
then clamp my lips shut, wishing I could take back the words I just spat out.
“Raw?” He rolls the word off his tongue as though processing it slowly.
“Come here,” he demands. I wring my fingers into the napkin on my lap,
reluctant to move. He leans forward on the table, steepling his thick,
tattooed, ringed fingers together. “Come here, Camille. Before I give you no
other option.” His voice is calm and collected, but I know different. There’s
no negotiation; it’s a demand. A threat.
I hesitantly push back in my chair and walk around to him.
He turns his body to face me, his legs parted. He reaches out and takes
hold of my hips, pulling me closer before spinning me to face the door.
Pulling me toward him, he nuzzles into my neck, taking a deep breath that
makes me shudder. “You still smell like me, wife.” He spits the word like
poison. “But I like the smell of me on you.” His finger glides down my
spine, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “I like my pain on you.” I
squeeze my eyes closed on his words.
He inches my dress up, and I itch to tug it down.
 Humiliation burns through my cheeks as he lifts my dress over my ass.
His fingers dance along the flesh of my ass, and I let out a small gasp
when he delicately glides his fingers over my lace panties.
My heart skips a beat at his tender touch.
“I’m not sure what after care you expect, Camille. Not when I like
seeing you in pain.” The sharp sting of him swatting my ass has me
wincing, but his words cut deep and force me to bite into my lip. I refuse to
let the sob caught in my throat release.
My palms ball into fists, ready to strike. If only I could. If only I could
show him how much I hate him too.
He’s a bastard. A sick, twisted bastard, and I despise him for it.

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 LUCA

The moment she enters the room, her scent invades my senses—coconut. I
want to bathe in it and drown her in it at the same time.
How could I possibly feel so desperate for her body when I hate her
with every fiber of my being?
My muscles bunch tight as she takes a seat and refuses to look at me.
But they relax the moment she starts eating without needing to be
prompted. That’s reassuring, at least.
Last night, when I left her room, I wanted nothing more than to use her
body over and over again. But I won’t allow myself to enter her again until
she’s protected. No way in hell will I allow her to give me a child with the
sickness running in her veins.
So, I fucked my fist over her delectable body, imagining I was fucking
her tight cunt raw. I’ve never come so hard in my entire life, and I’m
desperate to expel this obsessive need for her from my body.
The sooner I fuck her into oblivion, the sooner I can get over my need
for her, and that is why she needs to be up and awake today.
I don’t intend on having breakfast with my wife ever again if I can help
it, but I can’t say I’m not excited to see her reaction as to what’s in store for
her this morning. And I need to be here to make sure the job is done
correctly. This way I can enjoy her whenever I choose.
 When I lift her dress around her waist, her body tenses, and I delight in
the knowledge she’s full of uncertainty around me. She should be. I feel like
a loose cannon in her presence, and that’s not going to end well for either of
us.
Her perky ass on display makes my cock throb with need. Even after
fucking my hand last night in my bed and again in the shower to wash off
the ridiculous amount of cum, it still wept at thoughts of her. I open my legs
wider, allowing my cock some room to grow in my pants.
I trail my finger tenderly on the outskirts of the welts formed on her ass.
Some bloody and raw. I delicately finger the lace of her white panties,
loving the innocence behind them while the whores I normally fuck wear
red or black to entice me. My innocent little virginal wife wears white, and I
love it. So does my fucking cock.
My fingers skitter over the bloodied flesh so gently it’s barely a touch at
all. “I’m not sure what after care you expect, Camille. Not when I like
seeing you in pain.” It’s not a complete lie. I like her at my mercy. I get to
take out my sexual aggression on the person I hate most in the world. Her.
She sucks in a sharp breath at my words, and I chuckle. Then she turns
to look over her shoulder, her eyes full of defiance. Does this girl see no
fear when she stares me down this way? I grip her hips in anger.
“Oh, I don’t know, Luca. Maybe some sort of ointment? You don’t even
have a first aid kit in your bathroom.” She raises an eyebrow at me, and I
want to whip her ass all over again for the simple action. That’s how much
she unravels me.
I consider her words for a moment. Her gaze on me electrifies my body
with pleasure and equal annoyance by how much I enjoy her. Yet it
intrigues me she can stir these reactions from me.
I drop her dress and make a snap decision. Before she has a chance to
turn around, I take her dainty hand in mine and march us through the foyer
and up the stairs. I can feel her digging her feet into each step. “Luca. Luca.
What are you going to do?” The panic in her voice is a turn on, and my
thick cock pushes hard against my belt.
I stride into her bedroom and drag her straight through it and into her
bathroom. Releasing her hand as we enter, I fling open the bathroom
cabinets, rummaging amongst the toiletries and towels chosen by Maria,
and not one of them is fucking coconut like the scent she seems to
magically carry.
Behind the stacked toilet tissue, I locate the first aid box. Granted, it
was hidden, but still, her ass can’t be that sore if she wasn’t able to locate it.
I slam it down on the bathroom counter and flick the lid open. Catching
her eyes in the mirror, she stares at me open-mouthed like I’m a crazed
man.
Taking the soothing ointment from the box, I motion with my hand for
her to turn and face the counter.
Her eyes volley from the ointment to my face before something seems
to appease her, and her shoulders lower, and she spins to face the mirror.
I unscrew the cap, then place it down on the counter. Moving to stand
behind her, I push her against the counter so she’s bent over, then I lift her
dress and tuck it into her white thong panties. Fuck me, she’s incredible,
and all mine for the taking.
I let the cool liquid seep into my palm before dabbing my fingers into
the ointment. With my free hand, I press down on her back, keeping her in
place. Her body tenses beneath my touch, and my balls draw up at the
thought. Tenderly, I cover her welts and cuts with the ointment. Each wince
and flinch makes my cock jump with a need to come. A need to punish her
for making me feel such things for her.
When I finally finish tending to her ass, I want nothing more than to
drive my cock into her. But I relent and decide to let my doctor solve the
issue of her birth control first.
Instead, I opt for another hand job.
 Her eyes dart to mine in the mirror as I unbuckle my pants. “On your
knees.”
She swallows thickly before she spins to face me with feigned
confidence. I smirk and nod toward the floor. Her jaw works from side to
side before she moves onto her knees. The sight of her down there,
vulnerable and begging, makes my cock spurt in desperation. I lift my
thickness from my boxers and bask in her eyes widening. The thick vein on
my cock twitches in excitement within my hand.
I’d like nothing more than to shove my cock down her throat, but I’m
on a tight schedule today, and when I allow myself the pleasure of her
mouth, I intend on taking my time and fucking it raw.
Instead, I’ll shoot my cum on her pretty little face and ruin her that way.
Afterall, it’s the least she can do after I allowed myself to care for her ass.
I work my fist hard and fast, and I grip myself tighter while staring
down in her blue eyes, my orgasm already ebbing at the forefront of my
mind. My balls ache and draw up at the look of vulnerability in her eyes,
and it has me wanting to fuck her hard. Make her tits bounce in my face.
Mark them, grab them, and bruise them. Giving her no reason to doubt who
owns her. Her soul, her body, and her mind. I’ll fucking own it all.
“Open your mouth wide. Don’t fucking swallow!” I aim my cock at her
face as my body tightens, and my cum shoots from my slit as I groan in the
ultimate pleasure. I grip the counter to stabilize myself with the force of my
orgasm. My hot cum jets over her perfect features, and I aim my wet cock
for her mouth. My mouth drops open in awe at hers being filled and my
balls being drained.
I stare down at her. Her mouth full of my cum, my pleasure. My release
marking her.
Her mouth remains open as I demanded. I take my cock and wipe the
excess cum down her soft cheeks and gently over her plump lips. Her eyes
blaze with fire that sends a ripple of excitement through my balls that I
don’t have time for. I tuck myself back into my pants. Then I take my index
finger and place it in her mouth. I swirl my digit over her tongue, forcing
my cum to coat her, the feeling of her mouth on me is incredible and makes
my balls fit to burst once again.
After withdrawing my finger, I write “wife” on her forehead. She
winces, unaware of what I’m doing. My lip quirks up at my handiwork.
Pushing my thumb into her mouth, I say, “Suck.” The word comes out
choked in arousal, and I clear my throat to try and disguise the fact.
She sucks on my thumb, and I practically squirm at her potential. “I’m
going to turn you into my slut, little wife. My little slut to use and abuse.” I
bend down in her face. “And then, when the time comes, I’m going to spit
you out and destroy your family. Like they destroyed mine.” I withdraw my
thumb with a pop from her mouth. Her startled sapphire eyes have me
smirking in glee.
Without giving her chance to respond, I take hold of her arm and hoist
her to her feet. Her face contorts in pain, but I ignore her. Pushing my hand
into the nape of her neck, I spin her to face the counter, pressing her hips
hard against it.
Her heart thuds, and I relish her fear, her hate.
Those sapphire eyes flicker with hurt when she stares into the mirror
and reads the word painted on her forehead before she tampers down her
feelings, shrouding them in a veil. A veil of hate.
“You’re mine to possess, Camille. My fucking wife to do with as I
please,” I whisper into her ear with malice.
My dark, solid body is pushed against her back, the threat behind her
consuming her small form, and I delight in it.
When I expect her to break, her face to fall or her lip to quiver, she
shows none of that and shocks me by showing resilience. She pushes her
shoulders back, as if with renewed strength.
 I want to push her against the counter harder, force the tears to fall,
break her.
Instead, I turn away from her, buckle my pants and then head toward the
door.
“Luca. Your quest for justice will never be enough. You’ll forever see
invisible poison when maybe the poison is in your veins after all.”
I still, and my hand tightens on the handle as I replay her words and
wonder how the fuck I will leave this room without throttling her.
It takes all my willpower not to address her. Not to force the words back
down her traitorous throat where they belong.
“You’re blinded by your hate, Luca.” Her voice is a low whisper, but I
hear it anyway.
She’s wrong. I’m not blinded.
I see clearly, and all I see is hate.

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Chapter Fifteen

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

I sit on her bed with plans to meet Enzo at the club within the hour.
I’ve already heard from the security at the gates that the good doctor is
on his way here. Maria knows to show him to her room when he arrives.
I twist my sister’s ring, reminding me of her being close and why,
ultimately, I hate the girl behind the door. No doubt she hates me back just
as much.
When the bathroom door opens and she steps into the room, she can’t
hide the shock marring her pretty face at me still being in her room.
It’s clear she’s washed her face, and my mind wanders to if she
scrubbed me from her mouth also.
I stand to my full height and motion for her to step forward, away from
the bathroom. She does so with trepidation in her eyes, and I can’t help the
maniacal smirk that leaves my lips at her jumpy demeanor, a testament as to
how unhinged my behavior is.
“Here.” My voice leaves no room for argument, and I point to the carpet
in front of my feet for her to stand before me. She grinds her jaw, and her
eyes alight with fury. But she does as I demand. Smart girl.
Her scent once again invades me, and I snap my hand out and clasp her
neck, pissed that her presence affects me so easily.
“Luca?” She examines my eyes as she drags the tip of her tongue
languorously over her plush lips. I lean in, breathing her in and searching
for a sign of her washing me away. My breaths turn heavy. Why do I hate
the thought so much?
“Did you wash me from your tongue?” I drag my tattooed thumb over
her plump lip while she keeps her startled eyes on mine.
“No.” The word is breathy and fills me with power I didn’t know I
craved.
 I step back, detaching myself from her and the hold she has over me.
“Good. I want you to taste me all day.”
She scoffs, and I glare at her. Her expression falls and she wrings her
hands in front of her nervously.
A knock on the door breaks the stilted tension. “Enter.”

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 CAMILLE

His presence has me in a choke hold. Being in the same room as him and
his unpredictability puts me on edge.
Yet he showed tenderness in the bathroom when I never expected him
to.
Of course he had to follow it up with being a complete ass by fucking
his thick cock within an inch of my face and humiliating me by coming not
only on my face but in my mouth too. Him calling me a slut should have
hurt me, but strangely, wetness pooled in my panties, and I squirmed at how
incredible he looked unraveling in front of me. His face when he came will
be forever engrained in my mind. Luca may be dark, stunning, and the
epitome of danger, but when he comes, his darkness bleeds from him in a
sinister eruption of euphoria.
The knock at the door is unexpected, and I jump, earning a low,
mocking chuckle from the ass that is my husband.
“Enter.” His deep voice is as fierce as ever. I don’t think I’ll ever get
used to his tone, nor would I want to.
Maria opens the door and steps aside to allow an older gentleman
carrying a briefcase to come in. She leaves the room and shuts it behind her
without another word.
 Luca moves to the armchair in the corner of the room and sits down
without so much as making eye contact or greeting the man. I sense his eyes
on me, but I refuse to look in his direction when he doesn’t even give me
the courtesy to explain what’s happening.
Instead, I try to figure out what the man opening his briefcase on my
bed is doing here.
Luca steeples his tattooed hands on his knees. “I want her fully
protected. No excuses.”
The man nods in understanding as my eyes volley between them.
“Everything is as discussed, Mr. Varros. Make no mistake, everything will
be fine.”
I feel my cheeks burning in temper as they discuss me. “What’s
happening?”
Luca’s eyes cut to mine, and he exhales as though annoyed at my
question. “The doctor is giving you birth control.”
I reel back on my heels in shock. Granted, I don’t want a child right
now, and definitely not Luca Varros’s child, but to have the decision taken
from me? I’m fuming.
I close my eyes and take deep breaths before snapping my eyes open
with a new, steely determination. “This is my body; you could have at least
had a discussion with me about it.”
He stands, the shadow of him reaching me like the grim reaper. His
voice controlled, he says, “Wrong. It’s my body, my decision. You’re my
wife and I fucking own you.”
I bite into my lip, trying to keep the tears in check, then I glance away,
unable to look at him any longer, scared that my actions could land me with
an even worse punishment.
“There is no way on this fucking earth would I allow my blood to mix
with yours.” His voice grows louder. “If I want to come in my fucking wife,
I will. Now, get the goddamn shot before I force you!”
 Tears sting my eyes as I walk over to the doctor. Sympathy oozes from
him, but I turn away, unable to accept it and his compliance in the situation.
I lift my sleeve while the doctor gets to work. The sharp sting in my arm
is followed by a sense of relief.
Luca exhales loudly, drawing the attention back to him. “That wasn’t so
fucking difficult, was it?”
He storms from the room, slamming the door behind him.
I let the relief in the knowledge of our bloods not mixing in hate take
refuge in my heart.

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Chapter Sixteen

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

“T he shipment is due in next Monday; Maxim will be there to take

control. You have a meal with Lorenzo next Saturday and a gala the
weekend after.” Enzo sits back in his chair. I can feel his gaze on me.
I lift my eyes. “Say whatever you want to say.”
He sighs. “Nobody in the family is doing anything out of the ordinary.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning. It’s a lot of manpower, to keep the Ricci’s under
surveillance.”
My temper skyrockets at his insinuation, and he must sense it because
he slumps back in his seat.
“Have you ever thought they know we’re there?” I question him while
sitting forward at my desk.
Enzo grunts at my comment. “They don’t.” His eyes meet mine with
certainty.
I wave my hand. “What the fuck ever. I want them watched, they’ll fuck
up eventually and we’ll be there to witness it. Then Lorenzo can eat his
fucking words with an alliance.”
“It may be a long time until you get any evidence. If you do.” His words
hang in the air, thick and full of accusation. I don’t want to shoot Enzo, but
I will if I have to.
“Then so be it.” I stare back at him, waiting for him to argue. Of course,
he doesn’t.
When my killing crusade was put on hold by Don Lorenzo, I put every
action in place to monitor the Ricci family. If I could find any evidence that
could warrant me ending them all, then I would. I’d happily walk into
Lorenzo’s office and tell him we need to put a stop to them once and for all
instead of creating mythical allegiances.
 Then, when this is over, I can have my life back and get rid of my
fucking wife. Her poison is already seeping into my veins. I can feel it, and
I itch to cut it from under my skin.
“How’s married life?” His question stuns me for a moment. My
wandering thoughts of her are suddenly at the forefront of conversation.
“Peachy.” I give him a mock smile and drop it immediately, and Enzo
chuckles.
Dragging my hand through my hair, I lock eyes with him. “I need this to
end, Enzo. Once and for fucking all.”
He gives me a firm nod, his loyalty always with me.

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 CAMILLE

Two days ago, I was given a guard to take me where I wanted when I
wanted. Maria handed me a credit card with a bright smile, as though she
was handing me the world, and I guess, to her, she was. It took everything
in me to take the card from her. Luca perceiving me as just another bimbo
with a credit card that spends her days shopping shouldn’t come as a
surprise. If he looked deeper, past his ignorance and hate, he’d see me, the
real me.
I push the drawer to my desk shut, refusing to give him another thought.
If he’s so insistent on making our lives separate, then so be it. At least this
way we can live in amicable silence and pretend one another don’t exist,
until an event, of course.
There’s a knock at my office door and then it creaks open, and Clint
pops his head around the corner.
When I started my voluntary placement as part of my degree, I didn’t
have an office, but I showed my worth in both the classroom and the
placement, quickly moving up the ladder, so I now have my own office and
manage the staff below me.
“Hey, Cami. I have a young woman with two young kids here.” He
looks pointedly at me, and I grimace as I recall some of the women’s faces
that have passed through our doors. “Domestic violence,” he tacks on the
end.
I give Clint a tight smile and nod, and he smiles his thanks before
leaving. I open my door wide, ready to greet the young woman with a kind
smile.
Her children’s voices are muffled as Clint shows her the adjoining
playroom to my office so I can talk discreetly to her while she can still see
her children.
I learned early in my studies and experience that no parent wants their
child out of sight when they come to us for help. But they obviously don’t
want to open up about their experience in front of their children. So the
Perspex screen is ideal for them to see their little ones, knowing they’re safe
and within arm’s reach.
“Hi, I’m Cami. Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand with a warm
smile as she lifts her face to meet mine. I keep my face neutral as my eyes
trail over her cut lip and swollen, bruised cheek.
“Holly.” She raises her chin in the air with confidence, and already I
like her. She’s clearly not going to let a beating take her down. “These are
my kids, Kian and Kristy.” Her little boy, a toddler, hides behind her leg
while her daughter stands beside her. I don’t know much about children, but
I imagine her being around four.
“Come on inside, we have toys for you guys.” I try to make my voice
sound jovial and feel I accomplished it the minute Kristy’s eyes light up,
which makes Holly smile in my direction.
As soon as we enter the room, her shoulders relax. I have two sofas and
a small kitchenette, giving the room a living-area vibe, and then my office
space is in a small room at the back.
The kids detach from their mom, and we chuckle in unison at how
quickly they found the confidence to leave her. I mentally note the abuse is
something they’re used to seeing. Otherwise, them feeling very protective
of their mom would make them clingy. The thought saddens me but doesn’t
surprise me in the least. Not considering some stories we’ve had come
through the doors in the past year.
I explain to the kids they can come into the room at any time, but
they’re happy with the array of television channels and toys on offer and
practically ignore me.
Turning back into the room, I pour Holly a coffee and sit on the sofa
opposite her.
“So, Holly, tell me about your situation and I’ll see what we can do to
help.”
She holds her cup in both hands and draws her eyes up to meet mine.
For the first time since her walking in here, I see a look of trepidation on
her face. The vulnerability shines in her eyes, and she nibbles on her bottom
lip, as if unsure how much of her story to expose.
“Holly, anything you say will be in confidence. I assure you of that.” I
hold her gaze, hoping she can see the truth flowing from me.
She stares back at me before blowing on her drink, as if contemplating
sharing her story. “My husband is a public figure.” I nod in understanding
and kick off my shoes, drawing my feet under me. Holly watches the
movement and gifts me with a warm smile. Her shoulders relax along with
mine, and I know I made the right move. We’re two friends having a chat, a
catch-up, so to speak. When, in reality, I’m noting in my mind how I can
help her and what’s significant in her story.
“I’ve tried to leave him numerous times.” She shakes her head and
looks up at the ceiling before meeting my eyes again, her face full of
seriousness.
“Your specialty is medical, right?” I sit forward a little, because clearly
she’s done her homework on me. When I thought she walked through the
door as another person in need, she actually sought me out.
“That’s right,” I confirm.
 “My medical records have gone missing.” She bites into her nail, her
leg bouncing now. All coolness gone and nervousness taking over her.
“Crucial evidence that I need on my side.”
I lean forward.
Our eyes lock.
“Then you came to the right person,” I tell her with all sincerity.

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Chapter Seventeen

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

T he dancer sways her hips from side to side, and it’s not lost on me that
in the past I’d have been mesmerized by the rhythm of a table dancer, but
the fact she’s even in my presence has annoyance rumbling inside me.
“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the show.” Enzo smirks.
I glare at him and tip back my scotch before slamming the glass on the
table and motioning for another to be delivered.
“What’s the fucking point? I can’t act on it.” I wave my hand out toward
the dancer. “I have to keep this facade up until we have an out.”
Maxim scoffs, and I want to drag him across the table. “Granted your
wife is your worst enemy, but you have a hot-as-fuck wife at home at your
mercy and yet here you sit with a two-bit whore, not so much as getting
your cock hard. When all you need to do is accept it for what it is right now
and use and abuse her pussy. You are her husband, after all.” He tilts his
drink in my direction in mock salute.
I let his words digest.
“He has a point,” Enzo adds before throwing a handful of peanuts into
his mouth.
Refusing to respond to either of them, I pull out my phone and flick up
the app on the camera to her room. She’s reading again.
Seeing her lying in bed in her innocent white lace negligee has my cock
harder than the sluts working here with only a g-string barely covering their
pussies.
I zoom in and can’t help but wonder what has her eyes flicking across
the screen of her phone.
I could check her search history; maybe I should.
Opening the app to her account, I see she’s reading up on family law. I
scoff at how she chooses to waste her time.
 If my brother and right-hand man knew how obsessed I was becoming
with Camille, they’d be concerned. More than concerned. They’d be
furious. And rightly so.
She is, after all, my archnemesis.
And I hate her.
I lean in when I see her close the document and open a search engine
under her private tab. Of course, I have access to it. I fucking own her.
My hand tightens on the glass when she types vibrator. A fucking
vibrator! My temper skyrockets, and I push away from the table and throw
a handful of Benjamins at the naked whore.

I grab my bottle of scotch from my office and take the stairs two at a time,
eager to get to her and desperate to make her pay. My cock is so hard its
past the point of pain.
I crash into her bedroom, causing the door to bounce off the wall. I lean
against the doorframe and take her in. Her brown hair is splayed out over
the pillow, and she lies on her side, covered with the sheets. The thought
annoys me. When she’s in bed, she should be uncovered and waiting for
me.
She lifts her head over her shoulder and rubs her eyes; she was asleep.
Her eyes struggle to open. “Luca?” Her soft voice, an innocent whisper that
sends a bolt of excitement to my balls.
“I’ve come for you to fulfill your wifely duties. Wife.” I spit the words
like venom. It’s about fucking time I took her again. Why I’ve been
refusing to allow myself is ridiculous.
I don’t want to want her, that’s why. But I have to accept I’m stuck with
her for the foreseeable future, so I might as well get something out of it.
Her eyes flare, and she swallows, and her fingers tighten in the sheets.
 “Get on the end of the bed. Ass in the air. I’m taking what’s mine.”
Her breath becomes stuttered, but she moves, albeit too slow for my
liking. I swallow a mouthful of the amber liquid, gasping at the burn in my
throat.
Walking across the room, I flick on the lamp beside her bed, determined
to see what I’m fucking.
Her torso is flat on the bed with her ass in the air as instructed.
Placing my bottle down beside me, I tug her by her ankles toward the
end of the bed so her knees rest on the edge. I lift her nightie, and my jaw
tightens at the sight of her panties. I grab both sides and tear them from her,
and a gasp of surprise falls from her innocent lips. “Don’t wear panties at
night again.” I slap her ass cheek in punishment. “I want access to what’s
mine every night from now on.”
She doesn’t respond, and her ignoring me irritates me. “Say you
understand.” I smack her again, and a whimper slips from her mouth.
“I . . . I understand. I won’t wear panties at night.”
“Good girl.” Using my palm, I soothe her ass cheek before quickly
reminding myself I hate her.
I move my palm down her ass and to her pussy and hate that she’s
barely wet, yet the thought of giving her pleasure makes my blood pulsate
in my veins. Grabbing the bottle from beside me, I spill it down the crack of
her ass, letting it seep around her pussy. She gasps in shock but makes no
attempt to move.
She’ll be wet now, and when I come inside her, she’ll be fucking
swimming in my possession.
I unzip my pants, lift my heavy cock from my boxers, and the sensation
from touching my steel, hard cock has my eyes closing on an inhale.
While stroking the wet, bulging head of my cock up and down her ass, I
revel in her flinch each time I brush over her asshole. I smirk to myself at
imagining fucking her tight, untouched asshole. How that would fucking
shock the innocent Mafia princess.
I will, but not tonight.
Tonight, I want to coat her insides with my cum. To come inside her so
deep I wash her of all her family’s sins, if only for tonight. While she’s
under my roof, in my bed, my wife, she’ll bathe in my obsession.
Placing the tip of my cock at her entrance, I slowly push inside and bask
in her tightness. My eyes close in pleasure; having never felt a woman bare
like this is like a thousand bolts of electricity flowing through my body and
sparking life back into my empty soul.
My firm grip on her hips means I’ll leave marks, that I’m sure of.
I surge forward with a hiss of pleasure, all the way to the hilt. Fuck me,
that’s good. She fits me perfectly. After all, I’m the only cock to ever have
entered her; she’s molded to my needs. My body tenses with exhilaration
and ownership.
I blow out a hiss to refrain from coming already. She’s tight, warm, wet,
and forbidden. She’s corrupted me when I should be corrupting her. She’s
the darkness consuming me, her body a cavern of sin.
A groan falls from my lips as I draw out, only to be pulled back in with
the lure of euphoria. “Fuck. My little slut.” I pull out and thrust back in.
“Fucking take my cock, little whore.” Thrust. “Take all my cock.” Thrust.
“Let me drain my fucking balls inside your pussy, little whore. Fuck, yes.
Wife.” Thrust.
Her whimpers spur me on, determined to push into her harder and
harder. “You think a plastic cock can replace me?”
Her body freezes, and I chuckle while powering harder into her. “I own
this fucking pussy. Nothing enters it but me. Do you understand?”
I lean over her body, grab a hold of her, and yank her head up so our
eyes clash. I spit in her face. The rage and arousal combined make for a
deadly concoction. “Say you fucking understand!” I slam inside her again,
taking the air from her lungs.
“I . . . I understand.” I drop her face-first into the sheets as I fuck her
ruthlessly while her compliant body allows me pleasure. I drive hard into
her, pounding her into the mattress.
My balls draw up. “Fuck, I’m coming.” Pleasure ripples through me,
and my mouth drops open at the force of my cum shooting into her bare
pussy. “Holy, fuck.” I drive my hips forward, willing it to last forever.
“Fuck, fuck.” My chants are barely audible above the slapping of our skin.
And when the last of my cum settles deep inside her, I withdraw my
spent cock. I heave and step back to watch in ecstasy as the excess cum
flows from her swollen pussy. “Fuck me.” I scoop up my cum and push it
back inside, not liking the thought of it leaving where it belongs.
I give her ass another firm slap before tugging up my pants. She doesn’t
move from the bed, as her face is still turned with my spittle coating her.
Scooping up my bottle from the floor, I walk around her, brushing her
hair from her shoulders, and her eyes latch on to mine with a flash of
softness. The thought aggravates me. If she thinks I can show tenderness,
she’s sorely mistaken. I take her hair in my fist, wrench her up by her head,
and bring her eye level with me. She winces and her neck elongates, then I
bend over, flatten my tongue, and lick my spit from her face before
dropping her roughly to the mattress.
“Night, night, little whore.”
I turn on my heel with a sense of sexual satisfaction I never recall
feeling before.
Now, for the first time in forever, I can’t wait to arrive home tomorrow
night.

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Chapter Eighteen

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

E ach night, Luca has come into my room and then in me. Each night,
he’s aggressive, quick, and even quicker to leave. It’s clear he can’t bear to
be around me but needs me to expel his sexual tension, and I’m his only
outlet.
Every night, as soon as he enters the room, I get up and lean over the
bed, allowing him to take me from behind. How I long to see his face when
he comes. The desperation and aggression behind his movements has me
closing my eyes and imagining his sharp features contorted with pleasure.
Then I hate myself for even trying to enjoy my duty.
He’s started to bring lube with him now, which I’m grateful for.
Sometimes he spits at me, degrades me, calls me names, and tells me how
much he hates me. But nothing hurts more than when he turns and walks
back out the door, leaving me there empty, bar his cum.
I swallow back the feeling of loneliness and cover my face with a smile
as Holly comes through my office door. Her face drops, and I know I didn’t
mask my emotions quickly enough to conceal my worries.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her face etched in concern.
“I’m fine.” I smile back and pour the water into the mugs.
“Oh, so that’s how it is.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and I
struggle to meet her eyes, but when I do, guilt racks through me. “So, I
open up to you and tell you how bad my life is, but you pretend everything
is fine in your life, that’s how this works, right?” Her eyes glisten and she
looks at me solemnly before choking on air. “Of course it is. I thought . . .”
She picks up her bag from the couch, and my heart leaps into my chest in
panic at her leaving.
The only female I have in my life that’s been a constant lately is
leaving. Tears well in my eyes, and my hand snaps out to grip her arm,
halting her in her step. “Please, don’t leave.”
Holly’s eyes flick over my expression, and her face softens. “Okay,” she
whispers, and I relax.
She takes over making the drinks as I take the couch.
“I’m married,” I admit, staring at the wall opposite me, refusing to
witness the shock on her face. “And we don’t even like one another.”
Her gaze sweeps over me, and her eyebrows narrow in confusion, no
doubt taking in the lack of wedding ring that sits in my purse every day I
attend work. “Then why are you married to him?”
I meet her eyes, hoping she can see the truth behind them. “I don’t have
a choice.” Understanding crosses over her face. There’s no doubt in my
mind she’s unaware of my roots, but the fact she’s also in a marriage she
doesn’t wish to be in means we have a common bond with one another.
“Is there nothing you can do?”
“No.” I take a sip of my drink. “He thinks my family wronged him.” I
stare back at her. “We didn’t. But he refuses to listen.”
Holly sits forward, placing her drink on the table. “Can you not provide
proof? That your family didn’t do that?”
If only. That can never happen.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Then you just have to make him fall in love with you.” She points at
me with a smile, and I scoff at her naivety where my husband is concerned.
One thing I know for sure—Luca Varros is incapable of love.
Especially when he’s riddled with so much hate.

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 LUCA

I shake Dominik Kozlov’s hand. I might not be a fan of the Russians, but
knowing Dominik is the head of this family reassures me any conflict
pertaining to me disposing of his cousin Ravlek is under control. Truth be
told, I think I did him a favor.
“I come here bearing gratitude.” He smirks, confirming my suspicions.
He wanted to get rid of his cousin. By any means necessary.
“You saved me a job without causing unrest between my men and an
uprising.” There’s not a shadow of doubt in my mind he’d have taken the
position himself eventually. Ravlek’s stupidity allowed me to fast track his
inevitable demise.
I take in his huge form while handing him a whiskey. He knocks it back
and picks up the bottle without asking, pouring himself another. His
arrogance and confidence should piss me off, but I can’t help but see myself
in him. He knows what he wants and takes it. Consequences be damned.
“So you owe me?” I crook a brow in his direction, knowing I’m pushing
my luck.
Dominik throws his head back on a gruff laugh, but when his eyes meet
mine, all humor is gone. “We both know that’s not true.”
Lorenzo reassured me Dominik would not retaliate against me or my
family, so what does he want exactly? My mind darts to Camille, causing
the muscles in my body to tighten.
He doesn’t miss the movement, as his gaze trails over my tense body.
“What do you want?” I spit the words, pissed at his audacity. How dare
he come here and scrutinize me like this on my turf? Completely
disrespectful.
He chuckles. “I meant no disrespect, Luca.” He leans forward, taking
another drink before letting out a gasp at the burn in his throat. “I have
information about two of your men conspiring against you.”
This piques my interest, my veins pulsate and jaw tics. “Go on,” I coax.
He picks up his amber liquid and swishes it around his glass before he
sits back with a smile on his face, knowing he has my attention. “You have
a shipment coming in on Monday.” My eyes dart to his with the knowledge
of the shipment only few people are aware of. I nod in confirmation for him
to go on, already planning their demise.
His lips don’t move, not a fucking inch until he brings his glass to his
lips and smiles into it as he takes a slow sip of his drink. I try to tamper
down my fury. I try really fucking hard, but I’m acutely aware and well-
known for my hotheadedness, and right now, I’m fucking murderous.
“What do you want in return?” I grit the words out.
Dominik sighs before releasing a nonchalant shrug. “All I ask is if the
time ever comes to be by my side, you’re there.”
I stare at him. Is he for fucking real? By his fucking side? His cousin
kidnapped and assaulted my sister. I glare back at him.
And as if reading my mind, he says, “I’m not my fucking cousin, Luca.
I don’t deal in women and children, and I refuse to stand for it. I want an
alliance. A peaceful fucking alliance.” I study his body language. He says
the words with truth, but something tells me there’s more to it than meets
the eye.
He scans my face, no doubt looking for an answer to his proposition.
“There’s more to this.” I stare back at him with a raised eyebrow.
 He downs his drink, proving I’m right.
“Are you going to allow these men to get away with screwing you over?
Men you trusted?” I clench my fists to the point of pain at his words.
“I don’t intend on calling in your support, Luca. I just need to know it’ll
be there should I ever require it.”
“You’re building alliances among other families?” As a new leader, this
would be the right approach, a tactical, logical approach, and is something
that sits well with me.
When I took out Ravlek, it put the other families on edge. With my
reputation, they know any retaliation wouldn’t have been taken lying down.
But Lorenzo was determined to create peace, not wanting yet another
bloodbath involving me.
Hell, it would have been easier for him to kill me as an example to his
men.
I lean forward. “Tell me everything you know.”

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Chapter Nineteen

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Luca

C amille’s leg bounces, setting my teeth on edge. I want to reassure her

and tell her she has nothing to be nervous about, but at the same time, I
don’t want to offer her the comfort she doesn’t deserve.
“Stop fucking fidgeting,” I snap out, and she startles at my tone. “How
can I fucking concentrate on the road when you’re practically shaking the
car?” I stare ahead but imagine the look of shock taking over her face.
After a while, her shoulders relax, and she gives a loud huff before
staring out the window. “I’m surprised you can’t just block me out, like you
normally do,” she sasses, and I want to take her over my knee and punish
her for it.
Fantastic, now my cock is hard.
“I ignore you with good reason.”
She scoffs, and I dart my crazed eyes to her in explanation. Which she
willingly gives, shocking me further.
“Let me ask you this, Luca . . .” She pauses, waiting for my approval,
and my cock twitches in delight at the control I have over her. I give her a
firm nod, signaling for her to go on. “Did your sister pay for your sins?”
Her words force my heart to skip a beat. And for the first time in as long
as I can remember, I’m rendered speechless. I stare back at the road and
turn up the radio, refusing to acknowledge her words.
She can’t see, of course, as I refuse to allow it, but an emotion I’ve
never felt before courses through my body.
I think it’s guilt.

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 CAMILLE

The words roll off my tongue before I even realize it. “Did your sister pay
for your sins?” I cringe as I replay his reaction over and over. The way his
body shuddered, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, and the way he silenced
me, pretending I wasn’t there by turning up the radio.
The car rolls slowly toward the armed gates, and a wave of nervousness
rolls through me yet again at me arriving on enemy territory. The same
enemies that slaughtered members of my family. I try to tamper down my
nerves while brushing my sweaty palms on the material of my dress.
“Stop fucking fidgeting,” Luca snaps again. He drags a hand through his
dark locks, and his sharp jaw fixes into his perpetual scowl. He’s handsome,
there’s no doubt about it, but the man wouldn’t know how to please a
woman if her clit hit him in the face. I stifle a nervous giggle at the thought.
“Now fucking what?”
I glance up to find his dark eyes trained on me, specifically on my lips.
My teeth dig into my lip harder as his eyes become hooded, and sexual
tension fills the car. He growls in the back of his throat before throwing
open the car door and slamming it shut behind him.
What the hell happened?
He bangs on the car roof, and I jump in haste as I fumble with the door
handle while mentally grumbling about him not being a gentleman and
opening my car door for me.
I wobble on my heels before giving myself a pep talk, breathing through
my nose, straightening my shoulders, and raising my chin to conquer the
task at hand.
Get through this fucking meal.
Walking around the car toward Luca, he glares down at his watch, as
though it offends him. His eyes snap up to meet mine and then his gaze
roams over my body, as though devouring me. If only that was true.
“Give me your hand.” He nods toward his outstretched hand, and for a
moment, I’m unsure what he means. He gestures again. I place mine in his,
but I don’t move quick enough, and Luca has other ideas—control. He
yanks me toward him so quickly I stumble, and I have to hold onto his
jacket to balance myself.
Heat permeates from him, and his scent invades me—strong, masculine,
and fresh. For the first time since being in his presence, I wish he would
hold me close and was holding my hand because he wanted to. Him tensing
beside me is like a douse of freezing-cold water, so I drop my hand from his
jacket.
He lowers his head. “We’re going to go in there and act like we’re
getting along. Do you understand me?” He yanks me closer, the air from his
minty breath fanning my face. He grips my chin between his fingers. “Say
you fucking understand.” His eyes implore mine as he pulls back, dropping
my chin, and glares at me with venom.
“I understand.” I swallow thickly at the intensity between us.
“Good girl.” I can tell the words slipped from him by error, because his
shoulders bunch and his grip gets tighter. He didn’t mean to say the words,
to praise me, but something inside me enjoyed hearing it. My thighs clench,
and I feel my cheeks pinken with the realization.
I take another bite of my steak before lowering my fork. When I expected
the meal to be difficult, I was wrong. It’s just another Mafia meal—the
women are ignored while the men discuss things we’re not privy to
understanding.
I sense Gabriel Varros’s eyes on me throughout the meal but make no
move to let him know I’m aware of his attention. I’m not sure if he’s trying
to coax a reaction from me, but I refuse to give him one.
We all know what he looks like; the whole world knows how gorgeous
the womanizer is. He’s often on the front cover of tabloid magazines where
bloggers discuss his latest conquest and gossip about if he will ever settle
down. Little does the outside world know he has no choice in the matter. Of
course, there’s been speculation from the press and outside world he is a
member of the notorious Varros Mafia family, but it’s never been
confirmed. He’s one of multiple bastard children of the late Tino Varros,
and if my sources are right, he’s often been known to dabble in the torture
of enemies. His handsome, happy-go-lucky attitude is an act, a mask to the
outside world.
A veil covering the truth that only those closest to him know.
If I remember right, Isabelle, his fiancée, was only a small child when
she was chosen for him, promised in blood, and I can’t help but feel sadness
for the girl with so much spark and energy who will soon have her light
flickered out. All in the name of the organization.
“When do you wed?” Luca’s voice cuts through the room, aimed at
Gabriel, forcing my eyes to finally land on his.
His jaw clenches, and his eyes flit with rage toward Luca before landing
back on mine. He licks his lips, and the sight has me mesmerized. The man
knows he’s gorgeous, but does he realize every action he does is equally as
captivating?
The table rattles with a pound of Luca’s fist, making the water spill over
from the jug. “I asked you a fucking question. Stop eye-fucking my wife
and answer me.”
Gabriel leans back in his chair; his white shirt stretches over his broad
shoulders, and I dart my eyes away from how he’s clearly goading Luca.
My husband seethes with rage, his hands balled into tight fists on the
table. The muscles in his neck are coiled tight, and I practically feel the
anger radiating from him.
His eyes snap to mine, and I suck in a sharp breath at the animalistic
fury behind them. “Camille, leave the room.” His firm voice leaves no room
for argument, but my lips part to reason with him.
Lorenzo gives a subtle shake of his head but otherwise appears
completely unperturbed by the demonstration of his men.
I rise from my chair and drop my napkin on the table, glancing round
the men once again, and a shudder races down my spine as I suddenly can’t
get out of the room quick enough.

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Chapter Twenty

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Luca

W atching my wife get eye-fucked throughout the meal sent a searing

rage of jealousy and anger through me I’ve never felt before. Nobody has
the right to look at my woman, ever. Let alone eyeing her up like he wants
to sample her. His eyes roamed over her body like she was a piece of meat,
and I wanted to pluck them from his smug fucking face and squash them on
the platter in front of him. I wonder if she’d find him attractive then.
Everyone knows what a cocky cunt Gabriel is; the man uses his looks to
bed women around the world and flaunts it all over the press like a
complete idiot. He’s acting like a child, and it’s time Lorenzo reined him in.
He’s making a mockery out of the organization, and he needs brought down
a peg or two.
As soon as the door clicks shut, I don’t give the prick a chance to move.
I smack his head down on the table so hard his nose cracks against the
wood. Blood splatters on the white sheets, and I preen with delight.
Picking up a dinner knife, Lorenzo warns, “Luca.”
I give him a sideways nod of understanding, refusing to take my eyes
from the piece of shit who dared to look at my wife. I spin it between my
tattooed fingers as he raises his head from the table, his face a bloody mess,
so much so, when I surge the knife down between his fingers, he doesn’t
see it coming. I push out of my chair and head toward the door for fresh air
to calm me, but as I pull open the door and my eyes lock onto those of a
soldier—most definitely not my wife’s—anger pulsates inside me once
again. The soldier must sense it too, because he gulps. “She went to the
restroom, sir.” He points to the corridor, and without giving him a backward
glance, I stride toward her.
I pound on the door. “Open the fucking door, Camille.”
 She’s fumbling with the lock, and how nervous I make her arouses me. I
like her scared of me, compliant.
As the door creaks open, I push past her.
She spins on her heels, taking me in, and her gaze roams over my body,
and the feel of her eyes on me electrifies my need for her. It’s strange how
much I crave the very woman I hate.
My hand lashes out and grips her neck. My tattooed hand against her
creamy, delicate skin makes me want to mark her as mine. Brand her as
belonging to me. I tilt my head from side to side, trying to envisage her
wearing my mark, but nothing comes to mind. I don’t want to tarnish her
perfection. I want the world to see whose she is. But more important, I want
her to see it too.
My cock thickens when she swallows beneath my palm, and the
sensation sends a spurt of pre-cum leaking from the tip of my cock, so
much so my boxers feel drenched against my skin.
“Did you hurt him?” Her soft voice makes me press harder against her
flesh as anger consumes my veins. Why the hell does she care?
I spin her to face the mirror and press her hips against the counter,
making her wince.
“Do you like him, Camille?” My words are laced in disdain. “Hmmm?
Do you find him fucking attractive?” I tug up her dress as she tries to look
over her shoulder at me.
But I gather her hair in my hand and push her face down on the counter,
holding her head in place. “Fucking answer me!” My voice echoes off the
walls, and she flinches beneath me.
“No.” Her voice is weak.
“No.” I mock chuckle, knowing she’s lying. Everyone knows what a
handsome bastard Gabriel is.
I almost want to call her out on it, but the fact she could actually be
attracted to someone, someone other than me, would hurt me more than I’m
prepared to admit. So instead, I punish her for it.
My belt buckle clangs against the countertop as I frantically unzip
myself and pull my hard, dripping cock from my boxers, then hiss with
relief at my touch.
I spit on my fingers, unwilling to witness the disappointment if she’s not
wet and ready for me. Reaching down, I coat her pussy lips in my spittle
and push some of it inside her with a single digit. She flinches, and I relish
in it as my cock jumps with need. Then I push her white lace panties to the
side and surge forward, forcing her against the counter with a slam. She
sucks in a sharp, startled breath, as though not expecting the brutality of me
taking her, but she should know by now I’m as equally vicious and ruthless
inside and outside of sex.
I withdraw my hips and slam inside her again and again. “Fuck.”
Punishing her pussy, I pump my hips as she clenches around me in a
viselike grip, a grip only my wife has had on my cock, and that alone serves
as my punishment because I know no other pussy will ever feel as good, as
excruciatingly good as this.
I glance down at where we’re connected and my thick cock fills her
small hole. Wetness coats us both, and my balls ache as they draw up with a
need to come. “Fuck, my cock is stretching you so wide, Camille. So
fucking wide.”
I push harder.
“Does it hurt?”
Slam.
“Does my cock hurt your little pussy?”
She clenches around me, and I have to bite into my cheek to stop myself
from coming. Instead, I tighten my grip on her hair and tug her upright. My
other hand digs into the flesh of her hip while the hand on her hair trails
around to the front of her neck. I feel her gasps, her whimpers that she’s
trying to hide, and I hate her for it. For not allowing herself to accept me.
 I tilt her head like the pliant doll she is, and I chuckle menacingly.
“What a perfect little toy to play with, wife.” Slam.
My eyes meet hers in the mirror. For the first time while fucking her, I
have eye contact, and I wish I could stop it, but my hips move on their own
accord, determined to force her to see who she’s fucking. Who fucking
owns her.
“Who owns this?” I tilt her head to the side and await her response with
my eyes locked on hers, unwilling to release them while my hips continue
to move at a punishing pace.
“Who?” I thrust hard, my orgasm fast approaching, and nothing will
stop it. The control I had, gone; the band has snapped.
I reach my palm around to her clit, pressing down hard and circling it
with intensity, forcing the words to tumble from her mouth I so desperately
want to hear.
“You.” Her word is a reluctant whisper, and her lips part as I slam into
her one final time before sinking my teeth into her neck while my cock
pulsates deep inside her, hitting her very core.
I groan in relief.
“Mine.”

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 CAMILLE

I expected Luca to relax a little after he flooded me with his cum and
pushed my panties back in place. Instead, he tucked himself in and buckled
his belt with as much rage as he did when he unleashed it and refused to
give me another glance.
His jaw tics and the veins on his forehead pulsate as I flatten my messy
hair and cover the bloody bite on my neck. He sucked the skin sharply into
his mouth even after he climaxed, and now I’m left with an embarrassingly
large bite to cover.
“Leave it!” he snaps. Then he grips my forearm, turning me to face him.
His stoic face seems to flare with delight when his eyes latch on to his
creation while his touch sends a thousand embers flicking my internal
flame. I lick my lips as he surveys his handiwork before he smooths my hair
over my shoulder with a look of tenderness in his eyes. I blink slowly,
unsure if he has an ounce of kindness in his veins.
“I like my whores marked.”
And just like that, the flames are doused and I’m back to hating him.
He chuckles as he throws open the restroom door while I struggle to
keep pace. Lorenzo is waiting outside the dining room, and he doesn’t so
much as look at me as he shakes Luca’s hand while Luca thanks him for his
hospitality. I want to scoff, but as the door opens and Gabriel slips beside
Lorenzo, I can’t stop the gasp that escapes my lips at the sight of him.
His face is swollen and bloody; he looks like he’s been boxing and the
opposing man beat him to a pulp. He grins at me, and his teeth are bloody,
so I take a step back. All I can concentrate on is the fact my husband did
this to him, and yet he stands here smiling a cocky smile in my direction.
Luca bands an arm around my waist and steers me away from the men
and toward the exit. I cast a glance over my shoulder, and my eyes latch
onto Gabriel’s, then he winks at me, and I startle at how manic he appears
right now.
It also makes me realize it’s not just my husband that’s a deranged
monster.
They all are.

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Chapter Twenty-One

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

I practically run to my room, hoping to forget all about tonight. Another

deed done, I guess. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll be back to our usual routine,
and this will just be something I deal with every once in a while. My nerves
are shot, and my emotions are in tatters.
Luca may have given me a tenderness I never knew existed inside him
today, but he shot it down the moment he blended myself and his whores in
the same context. He did it through spite, of course, I realize that. But it
doesn’t mean I should stand for it, nor am I okay with it.
Tugging on a robe, I startle when the bedroom door swings open, and
there he stands.
My heart skips a beat at his presence, a combination of fear and need.
For some insane reason, I actually want to please the man that hates me
with such vigor. I shake my head at the thought.
“Take off the robe.” I glance up to find his eyes searing into me as he
sips on his drink while leaning against the doorframe.
A shiver passes through me. Do I do it? Dare I question him?
I feel his arousal in the air. He’s not satisfied. Not yet anyway.
So I slip off the robe, letting it pool at my feet while I draw my eyes
back up to meet his.
He swallows harshly, placing his glass on the dresser as I take in the
tattoos traveling up his arms to where his shirt is rolled at his elbows. His
veins are on display, and my mind races with thoughts of trailing those
veins up and over his neck. Heat floods me with the notion.
Tension fills the air as he steps toward me, his bare feet now foot to foot
with mine. My heart races as his gaze travels down my body slowly, eating
me up.
 His black orbs are hooded and full of need. A need I want to satisfy but
hate myself for wanting to.
“Lose the bra.” His voice is a demanding whisper.
My fingers tremble as I unclip the bra and let it slip to the floor. My
nipples are pebbled and heavy as he stares at them.
“Take my cock out.”
I flinch at his words, and his lips quirk up at the side. But I do as he asks
and pop open the button to his pants. His body is tense, and I hear the rapid
beating of his heart as I move my hand into the waistband of his boxers.
The moment I touch his silky length, he lets out a low hiss I’m sure I wasn’t
meant to hear. Strands of pre-cum coat my palm as I move my hand to his
balls before tugging him from the confines of his boxers.
“Pump me.”
I glance up at him, his face daring, and I can’t help but feel an
overwhelming need to prove myself to him. Prove I’m more than he
expects, and more important, more than he deserves.
I lower myself to my knees of my own freewill, embracing the fact his
breathing has quickened and his fingers have found my hair.
Licking around his sack, I relish in his sharp intake of breath. Knowing
I have control of his need for me spurs me on. I flatten my tongue and trail
it up his rock-hard cock; it stands tall and drips under my touch. I suck
around his skin, and he fidgets around me as his other hand tangles in my
hair. Glancing up at him, desire seeps from his eyes and into my soul. His
lips part in awe as I suck the swollen head of his thick cock into my mouth.
I close my lips around his length and thrash my tongue around him, pushing
it into his slit and pulling the desire from him.
“Fuck.” His hands tighten in my hair, and my scalp stings.
I use one hand to hold onto his thick thigh while the other toys with his
balls. “Holy fuck.”
Then I go to work. I suck him down my throat past my gag reflex.
 He gasps, and I cast my eyes up to watch him unravel when I tug him
closer, then push against his thigh with my hand before drawing him in
again. Essentially encouraging him to fuck my face.
And he does.
He pulls out but quickly pushes back in, as if desperate to feel my
mouth on him again. One of his hands moves to my neck, and I know he’s
placed it there to feel himself feeding into me. I groan in delight when his
balls draw up. “Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.” He thrusts into me
with wild abandon at a punishing pace. I suck harder, deeper, pulling him in
and trailing my tongue over his length as my mouth drips with his need and
my saliva. But I don’t stop. I need him to see.
I need him to see me.
“Shit. Fuck, I’m coming.” Disappointment laces his words before he
stills, dropping his head back, then his lips part and his body relaxes as his
cum hits the back of my throat. I close my eyes at his taste and bask in the
glory of him unraveling for me and the control I have over him as he feeds
me ropes of his warm cum.
All too soon, his grip loosens, and he pulls his cock from my mouth and
his chest heaves as he regains composure.
Then his eyes snap open with a searing rage, and venom glares back at
me as I stand to my feet with my robe in hand and tug it on.
When I turn to face him, he’s tucked himself away, but I feel the anger
radiating from every cell of his body.
“You’ve done that before.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I glance away as I leisurely tie the robe around my waist. Something
inside me needs him to hurt, needs him to feel as insignificant as he makes
me feel.
I cast my eyes back up to meet his. “You’re right. I’ve done it before.” I
shrug.
 His nostrils flare, and his hands ball into fists. His voice is dark with a
sinister edge. “Who?”
I jolt in shock. Is he seriously asking me that? Given how many women
must have sucked his cock.
This is what aggravates me with Mafia men; they see us as mere
possessions.
Hate bubbles inside me—I’m more. So much more than this life I was
born into.
“It doesn’t matter,” I respond, knowing no good will come from it.
He steps forward. “It fucking matters!” His voice booms, but it doesn’t
frighten me.
“No, it doesn’t. What matters is, your wife was on her knees sucking
your cock like a good whore. It doesn’t matter who taught me to do it.” My
eyes bore into his with equal hatred.
His eyes bulge from the sockets as he takes a menacing step forward,
then he takes hold of my chin roughly between his fingers. They dig into
my skin, but I refuse to back down.
“Tell me.” His voice is low.
I bat his hand away and shove past him. “I refuse to let you hurt anyone
I care about, Luca.”
His body jolts in shock. “Care?” His temples pulsate; his irregular
breathing would be comical if the air wasn’t so thick with danger right now.
“Yes, care,” I snap back at him as I pick up the discarded bra from the
floor and place it in the laundry basket.
I glance over my shoulder to him standing stoically still, his eyes trained
on me.
I can’t help myself; I finally have power over him. I can make him hurt
too. “What? You thought I was completely untouched? I might have been a
virgin, Luca, but I have experience. I had a fucking life!” I scream back at
him.
 “You were meant to be fucking mine!” he yells back, pointing at his
chest, his body vibrating with rage.
I laugh, and he stares at me as though I’m insane for ignoring his
tantrum. “I was never meant to be yours. We both know that.” His nostrils
flare at the innuendo. I shake my head as a lone tear slips from the corner of
my eye, and I swallow hard to help stop more from falling. I laugh, but
there’s no humor behind it; it’s laced in sadness, in hate. “I was going to fall
in love and marry a doctor. Have a house with a porch, a white picket
fucking fence. I was going to have it all. A life. And you took that away
from me!” I scream. All the hate, all the hurt, all the sadness, and all the
hope expel from me and force him to take a step back in shock.
“You took that away from me,” I whisper as another tear falls.
“He murdered my fucking sister,” he spits. “The sick bastard raped and
murdered my sister!”
I glance up at the ceiling and lick my lips, trying to tamper down my
anger at going around in circles on the subject.
“I want a fucking name!” he bellows before storming over to the dresser
and swiping the contents to the floor. “A fucking name!” He pulls the
dresser from the wall and slams it to the ground. The glass top shatters,
almost in slow motion, and he stares at the mess at his bare feet. Silence
hangs heavily between us.
Then his black eyes turn on me. They’re cold, lethal, and they hold an
unhinged hint of calm behind them that makes me shudder. His chest rises
rapidly as he stares me down. “Tell me who the fuck he is.” His voice is
calm compared to the erratic tone only moments ago.
I raise my chin. “Never, Luca.”
“Ahhh,” he roars so loud it bounces off the walls. “I’ll fucking kill
him!” He grabs the first thing he can, the table lamp, and rips it from the
socket in the wall. Then lifts it and wields it like a weapon, so I step out of
harm’s reach. But he doesn’t come near me, instead he uses the lamp to
smash the room up. The perfumes lined on the vanity unit are smashed to
the floor. He pummels the mirror, and punches the walls, and I wince with
each strike. Then he turns back to me, dropping the lamp to the floor, and
my eyes cast over the destroyed room and its carnage.
He steps toward me, his hair a tousled mess, his chest heaving, and his
face red with anger. Lifting his gun from behind his back, he aims it at my
forehead. “Give. Me. A. Fucking. Name.”
I close my eyes and imagine Justin, an innocent man, destroyed by the
Mafia. Destroyed by me. Another innocent killed for no reason.
I swallow. “No.”
Shock mars his face and disappointment flashes through his eyes. He
presses the trigger, and I squeeze my eyes closed to the click of the gun. My
body shakes.
Nothing happens.
I open my eyes.
His handsome face breaks out into a maniacal smirk as he lowers the
gun.
Tears stream down my face as sobs rack through me.
“I’ll break you one day, Camille.”
I lick my dry lips. “You broke me the day you married me, Luca.”
“Then I’ll shatter you, I’ll make your life a living hell.”
I chuckle. “You already have, you already do. Just existing in your
presence is punishment enough.”
He drags his thumb over my bottom lip. “Then I’ll bask in your
punishment.” He smirks again before pulling away.
He walks through the broken glass with bare feet without so much as
flinching before opening the door.
A gunshot reverberates off the walls, followed by a thud, so I rush
toward the door. Swallowing back the nerves in my stomach, I step onto the
landing and peer down at the men gathered around the body of a man Luca
just put a hole in. Blood oozes from his forehead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead, and it’s all my fault.
Luca stares back at me, his eyes void of emotion, but I don’t miss the
warning there. I don’t miss the hate.
My body shakes as I step back into my room and fall to the floor,
allowing my tears to fall willingly this time. But I don’t cry for myself, I cry
for the man who was shot because of me.
Because I dared to fight back.
And I hate him for it.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

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Luca

E nzo zooms in on the screen. Two of my men are unloading my

weapons from one crate into another unmarked crate. Essentially stealing
from me.
“Makes you wonder what else they’re doing, and who they’re selling
them to,” Maxim comments, and I nod in agreement.
“Bring them in,” I say while staring at the screen. The disloyalty is
astounding, and I’ll take great pleasure in punishing them for it.
Since Camille gave me what can be described only as the best blow job
of my entire life last week, I’ve had an insatiable need to hurt something, to
feel something other than a want to consume her.
Maxim leaves the room, and Enzo turns to me and sighs. “I can find out
who it is?” He knows I’m out of sorts. I told him about her relationship with
the so-called doctor. I grit my teeth and close my eyes at the thought of him.
Of her.
“You can unleash on him. Get all this pent-up tension out of your body.”
I open my eyes to Enzo waving a hand at me. Pent-up fucking tension? I
grit my teeth in annoyance.
“I have them.” I point at the screen, and Enzo chuckles.
“We both know they’re not enough, don’t we?” He raises an eyebrow in
my direction.
I drop back into my chair on a heavy sigh. “I don’t fucking want her,” I
tell him the same words that have played over and over in my mind for the
past seven days.
“She’s your wife.” He shrugs while staring at me. Daring me to argue.
My veins fill with anger. “She’s the fucking enemy.” I glance back at
the screen; Enzo’s eyes follow suit. Are these two men working with her
family? Have they planted something in my warehouse?
 I stand with a newfound vigor. “Search the fucking warehouse!”
Enzo drops his head in defeat, rubbing his temple. “Luca . . .” he
drawls, and I snap my eyes over to him with a glare he knows not to
question.
He gifts me with a loyal nod. “Very well.”
I open the warehouse door and make my way over to my home, where,
in the basement, I will find the two men responsible for trying to not only
discredit me but steal from, lie, and ultimately betray me.
Only, this time, I hope I get my answers.

The flesh hangs from him like a butterfly spreading its wings. The sway as
he swings from a hook is giving me a tension headache. Pulling the gun
from my back, I aim at the hook, and satisfaction eases the tension when the
mutilated corpse drops to the floor with a heavy thump.
My men step back as I round the man in the chair. He’s shit and pissed
himself multiple times while drifting in and out of consciousness. But still
nothing of any importance. The disappointment at being no closer to taking
down the Ricci family sits heavily in my stomach. I want rid of them. All of
them.
Her face flashes before my eyes and riles me all the more. I lift the drill.
“Tell me again!”
The idiot snivels. “We were at a bar.”
“Which bar, specifically?” Enzo adds.
“The Dragon. I ordered two beers, then the guy came over.”
“What’d he look like?” My right-hand man adds.
“Dark hair, tall. No scars or tattoos.” Snot drips from his nose as his
head rolls. I yank his head up to face me. “He . . . he didn’t look like Mafia,
just an average guy. Jeans and t-shirt.” I nod, encouraging him to go on.
Blood dribbles from the side of his mouth. “He told us to swap the guns
over in the crates. Gave me an envelope.” He struggles to swallow. “Ten
grand, cash.”
I snap my eyes up to Enzo’s assessing ones. “And you say this was the
first time you did this?”
“Y-y-y . . . yes I swear.”
I drop his head and press my finger to the drill handle; the sound fills
the room, and I laugh when the idiot tries to shuffle away from it. I stick the
head of the drill to his thigh and press down, and a sense of calm flows
through me as his screams fill the room.
I see my aggression oozing out of me like an out-of-body experience,
one of euphoria I only seem to get when I unload inside of her.
My fucking wife.
And just like that, I’m pissed again, and my cock is hard as fucking
nails.
“I swear it. Just once.” He slips into unconsciousness again as I
withdraw the drill from the inside of his thigh.
“Makes no fucking sense. We searched the warehouse. Nothing.”
“Maybe we go back to Dominik, find out where he got his intel from?”
Enzo suggests.
“I’m not going back to fucking Dominik, that’s what the fucker wants. I
already owe him.” Enzo nods in agreement.
“What are we going to do with him?” Enzo wave his hand toward the
shithead in the chair.
“Slaughter him like a pig.” I grin, pointing to his dismembered friend.
“Just to be sure.” I wink, earning a chuckle from Enzo and a grin from
Maxim.
They’re as sick as I am.
In blood we’re bound.
In trust we live.
OceanofPDF.com
 CAMILLE

Waking, I stretch out on the crisp white sheets. It’s been over a week since
Luca had some mental breakdown and destroyed my bedroom. The next
day, I returned home to find it as it was before his tantrum.
I shook off his jealous behavior and the way he killed a man through
anger while trying not to let my mind wander as to the danger I may have
put Justin in.
There’s not a shadow of doubt in my mind that Luca could find out who
he is, but I can only live hoping he won’t go that far. That he doesn’t care
that much about my past liaisons to go in search of some misguided
retribution.
I freshen up in the bathroom, and knowing Luca will be out by now, I
forgo my cardigan and sweatpants, and instead head down the stairs toward
the kitchen.
A high-pitched giggle makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on
end with the realization that Luca is not at work and not alone. I swallow
back the bile and dart my eyes up toward the stairs. Should I head back up
there and pretend I never came down at all? Never heard them together?
Movement makes me turn to see Enzo in the doorway, and his eyes
latch onto mine, almost daringly. Daring me to turn and walk away or face
them head-on.
 My heart hammers as he watches me. Assessing. Am I the meek Mafia
bride they all expect, the one with no voice? The one with no choice?
Or am I the woman I’ve carved myself to be? The one without a choice
but has a voice, has strength, the one born into a world she didn’t create but
crafted to her own?
I raise my chin, straighten my shoulders, and meet his eyes with a sense
of steely determination. His lips press into a tight smile, and if I’m not
mistaken, pride washes over his face as he steps aside, allowing me access
to the kitchen.
I ignore Luca and his companion’s presence and head toward the
refrigerator. Opening the door, I take a smoothie from the shelf and flip the
cap.
Sensing their eyes on me, I refuse to acknowledge them until I sit on the
barstool at the opposite end of the kitchen counter.
Maxim smirks in my direction, amused by the situation, and I want to
give him the middle finger. How very unladylike of me.
Luca’s eyes bore holes through me. Clearly, he’s pissed I interrupted his
little rendezvous. The blonde beside him glides her hand over his chest, her
red talons clinging to the buttons of his white dress shirt.
I try to mask the hurt at another woman touching my husband,
especially in a way I haven’t been allowed. I pick up my banana and peel it
slowly as the blonde giggles into his neck. Internally, I seethe at their
performance in my presence. The complete lack of respect mixed with a
feeling of jealousy I have no place feeling.
I refuse to acknowledge the envy coursing through me; I won’t allow
them to make me feel insignificant. I feel the anger rolling off Luca in
waves. But how dare he be mad at me when he’s the one parading a woman
through our home?
“What the fuck are you wearing?” he spits as the blonde strokes his
arm.
 He doesn’t bat her away like I will him to. Granted, he gives her zero
attention, but I’m pissed at his disrespect toward me.
Slowly, I finish my banana, sucking the bits from my fingers before
answering him. His nostrils flare, and he waits with bated breath as I mull
over his words.
I glance down to inwardly cringe at the fact I am only wearing a thin
lace camisole.
I brush my fingers on my sleep shorts; I was hoping he wouldn’t
witness me wearing them in the first place. My ass is probably hanging out
the rear.
The blonde giggles, drawing attention back to her, and I narrow my
eyes, wondering what could possibly be so funny, because Luca appears
completely frozen, his eyes blazing with fury in my direction. Not the least
bit amused.
Her hand moves freely over his shirt buttons again, and when she pops
one open, my control snaps.
“Well, I’m pleased my husband is finding relief somewhere else and
now I don’t have to endure him.” The room becomes silent at my words, the
air thick with a promising threat, but still I continue. “I hope he manages to
satisfy you, sweetheart, because he sure as hell doesn’t know how to satisfy
me.” I stand from my stool and bite into my lip to stifle a smile at the
gobsmacked expression from the blonde. I flick the lid on the bin, drop the
banana peel inside, and sway my hips as I leave the room feeling
vindicated.
I don’t make it far before I’m rushed from behind and slammed up
against the wall, my face grazing the plaster. My hands are forced behind
my back as his solid body is pressed firmly against me.
“Don’t know how to fucking please you?” he whispers against my ear.
My heart thuds against my chest in fear and excitement at knowing I’ve
pushed his buttons, knowing he’s angry at me when he blatantly hurt me
too.
He grinds his hard cock into my ass. “Don’t know how to please you?”
His words are low and enraged all in one, a threat hanging there at my
accusation. He wrenches my head back in a firm grip before he sinks his
teeth into my flesh, and my eyes close on a wince.
“I’ll fucking show you.”
Before I know what’s happening, he crouches down and scoops me up,
lifting me over his shoulder as he takes the stairs two at a time at rapid
speed.
He kicks open my bedroom door, then slams it behind him. Then he
hauls me over his shoulder and drops me to the bed with a bounce. I lean up
on my elbows to him staring down at me. His dark eyes are filled with
arousal, his eyelids are hooded, and his tongue darts out of his mouth over
his lip, as though imagining savoring me. He trails his gaze over my body
languorously slowly, and my cheeks heat at his blatant perusal. He drags his
gaze up to meet my eyes. “Don’t know how to fucking please you?” He
quirks a brow at me in question.
Taking in his coiled muscles and the way his chest heaves and his fists
pump beside him, I realize he’s trying to restrain himself. He’s angry, but
judging by the bulge in his pants, he’s also aroused.
Is that for me? Or her? I swallow away the fear of inadequacy and
instead hit him head-on. I lift my chin. “Exactly that.”
His eyes flash with unadulterated rage as the air around us simmers with
an undercurrent of electrical sexual tension.
Luca brushes a palm over his five o’clock shadow. His sharp jaw works
from side to side, as though considering what to do.
My throat is suddenly dry, all hydration now pooling between my
thighs. I squirm slightly, hoping he misses the action. I fail.
His eyes flick to my pussy, as if sensing my need. Then his balled fists
fly open, and his hands move in a flash. The air is sucked from my lungs in
shock when he pounces, gripping my ankles, and tugging my legs apart
before settling between them.
Luca’s face is so close to my pussy his breath warms me beneath the
fabric.
“I can smell your arousal, Camille. Are you feeling needy?”
I don’t move an inch, not while he stares down at me, so closely
transfixed. The air in my lungs feels trapped, choking me when he buries
his nose against the fabric.
He inhales me, and I dig my fingers into the sheet to prevent me from
reaching out and touching him.
I close my eyes on his deep exhale, only opening them when the tips of
his fingers dig into my hips and he strips me of my shorts, throwing them to
the floor with a sneer like they offended him.
I drop my head back on a whimper when he spits against my bare pussy.
Then his tongue dips into his spittle, and he swirls it around my mound.
My heart races and my clit throbs when his firm lips latch onto my clit
and he sucks. “Oh god.” I can’t help the heavy pant that escapes my lips
when he swirls his tongue through my folds, pushing it inside my hole.
“Mmm.” His muffled groans and lapping of my pussy make my thighs
clench against him. He forces my legs apart and raises his head, shooting
me a warning.
My hand moves before I realize what I’m doing; it twitches midair to
touch his head and tug him back down to my throbbing clit before I decide
against it with a defeated sigh.
Our eyes remain locked.
“Do it.” His gruff voice goads me, but I stare back at him. My lips part
to tell him no, refusing to agree I need him to satisfy me. He sighs and rolls
his eyes, takes a hold of my hand, and places it in his hair.
It’s not lost on me this is the first time we’ve been so intimate. My hand
runs through his silky locks as he continues licking me, and I swear he
groans each time my fingers latch onto his hair a little too tightly.
He slides his tongue through my folds before pushing his face further
against me, causing my clit to ache and my spine to arch with need.
Pleasure lances through me when he nuzzles against my pussy, and my hips
drive up to meet his face. His growl vibrates my clit as he sucks it into his
mouth, and when he finally swirls his tongue over my aching bud again, I
explode with overwhelming satisfaction, my whole body alight.
I throw my head back against the pillow. “Hollllly shittt!”

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 LUCA

Watching Camille explode around my tongue has to be the most

magnificent and erotic sight I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing.
Something I want to see again and again for the rest of my life.
I don’t give her a chance to come down from her high; I unbuckle my
pants, pull out my raging cock, and maneuver myself to surge inside her.
The force behind my action makes me fall onto my elbows above her head.
I freeze; it’s the closest we’ve been since having sex, and my heart pumps
faster and faster each second I stare at her. She’s mesmerizing and totally
forbidden to me.
Her blue eyes stare back at me, awaiting my reaction at being so close
to her. My eyes find her lips, and I can’t help my next move. My mouth
slams down against hers. She tenses around me, but I don’t give her a
chance to think it through, think us through, because my body moves
against her, and she opens her lips, giving me access to explore her mouth.
Our tongues lash, the pace becoming consuming, desperate, and crazed.
Her hand finds my shirt, and I rejoice in the fact she’s trying to undress me.
That she wants me with as much need as I want her.
She tugs at the buttons, and I groan at having to wrench myself away
from her lips to help her. Sitting back on my heels with my cock in her snug
pussy, I help her unbutton my shirt, our fingers fumbling together at a
feverish pace. “I don’t want to smell her on you.”
Her words make me pause, and I hate myself for Josephine’s scent
touching her. Touching my wife. “Fuck.” I tear the shirt from myself and
throw it to the floor, vowing never to wear it again. Nothing tarnished will
touch my wife.
I waste no time in dropping back into the same position as she tugs my
head forward, giving me no option but to accept her lips. Her warm heat
clenches around me, and I groan in satisfaction from her wet for me.
Nothing has ever felt so good, so satisfying, knowing she aches for me,
drips for me.
“You’re so wet for me.” My eyes roll back when she clenches me as I
work my cock deep inside her.
“So wet,” she agrees before crashing her mouth back against mine.
“Tell me you want me.” The words leave my lips, surprising me, but
when her nails dig into my ass as her response, I can’t help but slam into
her harder, faster, with my orgasm fast approaching.
But first I want her to come again. I want her to come with me buried
deep inside her so I can feel my wife explode around me.
One of her hands finds my chin as she holds my mouth in place when I
kiss her. Even though our kiss is desperate and hungry, the tender touch of
her soft hand seems to calm my raging storm.
She moans into the kiss when I circle my hips, determined to get her
there before me. Why the fuck I’m suddenly so worried about my wife’s
pleasure, I don’t know, but all I know is I’ve never wanted to experience
anything more than I do right now.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I murmur as I pull my lips away to catch
my breath. Her breath hitches with my words, and I will myself to take
them back, but with the softness in her eyes, I don’t want to disappoint her.
I won’t allow myself to do it, so instead, I close my eyes and let her use her
fingers to draw our mouths together again.
Her hands rove through my hair, and I groan at her touch, embracing it.
I move one of my hands over her top before fumbling to find her strap,
pulling it from her shoulder and tugging her top down to expose her tits
while never stopping our tongues from mingling.
My mouth waters and my balls draw up when I caress her nipple
between my fingers and her pussy tightens around me. Her small, soft body
against my hard, solid muscled one makes me want drive into her harder.
I pull back to her hooded eyes mirroring mine, her lips parted and
swollen from our kiss. My eyes never leave hers as I flick my fingers over
her hardened peak, and she writhes beneath me as I slam into her harder and
harder, the bed now hitting the wall.
“Oh fuck, Luca.” Her whole body tightens like a vise as she arches
against me. The force of my cum shooting from my cock is intense, so
powerful I’m rendered shocked, and my mouth falls open and my eyes
widen in awe.
Fucking earth shattering.
I fall against her with every ounce of my energy drained from a single
orgasm. My head falls into the crook of her neck, and my lips find her
delicate flesh there, where I gift it with a soft kiss of appreciation.
A gentle sigh escapes her, and my body freezes at the sound. Realization
at what I’ve done, what I’ve allowed, hits me square in the face. A heavy
ball of dread fills me that I fucked her thoroughly, so thorough I made her
come and absorbed her pleasure; I allowed it.
Fuck that, I wanted it. I wanted that rapist, murdering fucking prick’s
sister to enjoy me.
“Please don’t.” Her soft voice cuts through my thoughts, and I lift my
head from being buried in her hair. Her bright blue eyes are brimming with
sadness, and her swollen lip trembles slightly before she clamps her lips
closed trying to disguise the hurt seeping into her.
I flick my eyes over her face before making the decision to move. Her
fingers dig into my shoulders, holding me still. “Please, Luca. Just one
minute, then you can go back to hating me.” I didn’t think my body could
tense any more, but her words and the broken tone of her voice have my
body coiled tighter—I was wrong.
I drop my forehead against hers, and the vulnerability shines through
her eyes as I breathe in her scent.
Then I slide out of her slowly, feeling her body tighten with
disappointment around me before I fall to her side and tug her over my
body, encouraging her to lay her head on my chest. I allow myself the time
to soak her in. To hold her close, breathe in her scent. Our hearts seem to
beat in tandem. Mine skipping a beat when the tender tips of her fingers
graze over the scars littered, hidden amongst my tattoos.
In a soothing motion, I brush my thumb over her hip as we lie there in a
comfortable silence, refusing to acknowledge the monumental sex we had
and the conflict raging inside me. Maybe her too.
My whole body relaxes at being physically and mentally spent, but
content is something foreign to me.
“That’s the first time I did that,” I admit.
She raises her head, angling it to stare into my eyes. For truth, maybe?
And for some reason, I want to give it her.
“I’ve never knelt to a woman before now.”
She stifles a laugh with a scoff. “You didn’t kneel. You laid on the bed.”
My lips twitch at her quick-witted humor.
“Nor will I ever kneel for a fucking woman. What I meant was, I’ve
never licked pussy before now.” My tongue darts over my mouth,
attempting to savor her taste.
 Her eyes bug out as she stares at me. But before I have time to
elaborate, my phone vibrates on the bedroom floor, and I chuckle to myself,
not even realizing I’d at some point lost all my clothes in the process of
fucking her.
Her head lifts from my chest, and I already miss the feel of her. Her
eyes narrow on me and she stares back at me with a brow raised.
“You laugh?” She bites into her lip playfully, and I want to swipe her lip
from between those teeth and tug it into my mouth, but instead, I push away
from her and ignore the sag of her shoulders as I reach down and swipe my
pants from the floor, digging around to locate my phone, then sitting on the
edge of the bed.
My spine straightens, and my muscles coil tight at the message from
Enzo.

Enzo: Still no moves made by the Ricci’s.

Me: Look harder.

Enzo: We need the manpower at the warehouse.

My temple pulsates and anger radiates through me at him questioning

my actions.

Me: Don’t question me, Enzo.

Enzo: Understood.

“Who is she to you?” I jolt at Camille’s soft voice, so pissed at my

message from Enzo I almost forgot her presence. Almost.
I sigh heavily but refuse to turn and face her and the consequences of
my actions.
“Her name’s Josephine. She’s a lawyer for the family.”
“You don’t use Sergio?”
 I glance over my shoulder at her and narrow my eyes, wondering why
the fuck she’s asking me questions to do with business. Business a Mafia
wife has no reason to know about. But I soften at the look of vulnerability
in her eyes, the way she holds the sheets over her tits. Does she regret it?
Does she regret us? The notion of it makes my heart skip a beat.
I shake my head at the thought. Why the fuck should it bother me what
she thinks? Yet, something inside me wants to reassure her.
“We do. But she has connections on the inside at the bureau.” She gives
a gentle nod in understanding, but her eyes hold me hostage, leaving me no
choice but to elaborate further. Since when did I allow myself to be
questioned by a woman? My enemy, no less. “I haven’t fucked her since
before we were married.” Relief flashes across her face before she quickly
tampers it down.
“I don’t want her in the house, Luca. I won’t be disrespected like that,
and you shouldn’t allow it.” She’s right. A Mafia man that allows his wife to
be disrespected shows a sign of weakness. If we have extramarital affairs, it
should be behind closed doors. That’s not an option for me either with the
agreement in place. All the more reason to keep my past discretions away
from Camille.
“Understood,” I reply, rising from the bed and cutting the conversation
to an end.
I’ll allow her this request because it suits me. But deep down, I know
it’s because it’s the right thing to do.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twenty-Three

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

M y mind is not in the fucking game. All I can think about is her. Me
sinking into her. How good she felt pulling my cock into her tight pussy. I
run a hand through my hair in frustration.
It’s been two days since then, and my need for her is growing like a
rapid fever. My cock is rock hard, fucking begging for the release only she
can gift me with.
I’ve fucked my hand so many times it’s bordering on an obsession. And
now, as I sit in my office on a Saturday afternoon with a mountain of
inventories to work through, all I can think about is her. I unbutton my top
button, hot with need. Stroking my hand over my steel cock, I exhale in
frustration at the fact my touch gives me no relief whatsoever.
Fuck it.
I push back in my chair and storm toward the door. When I swing open
the door, one of my security men steps forward and moves to withdraw a
weapon from behind his back. I give him a quick shake of my head.
“Where’s Camille?”
He tilts his head toward the corridor leading to half a dozen rooms.
“Swimming.” He exhales, as though calming himself from what he
probably thought was some sort of attack.
Fucking swimming?
I’m here with all this pent-up tension, my body coiled tight in need. I
can’t concentrate on a goddamn thing and she’s out there relaxing.
Swimming.
I turn on my heel and head toward the patio and pool area.
Opening the French doors, the breath is stolen from my lungs, and my
heart races. She cuts through the water with ease, looking like a vision
while completely unaware of my presence. Which annoys the fuck out of
me.
A throat clears beside me. “Boss?” Jimmy looks at me confused,
waiting for instruction. No doubt taking in my disheveled and frantic state.
I snap back into reality as I glance around the pool area to find four of
my men watching me. Potentially watching her.
My body vibrates with rage. “Turn the fuck around when my wife
swims!” I bellow, the danger evident in my unraveling. My men turn away
from us, facing out, giving us privacy.
My attention turns to Camille. She’s stopped swimming and stands in
the pool like a fucking goddess. Our eyes lock, forcing my heart to hammer
almost painfully. Her wavy hair drips down her shoulders, and I trail my
gaze down her body. My jaw cramps with the grinding of my teeth. Her tits
bulge from her red bikini top, and I swear I can make out her nipples
puckered beneath the material.
She remains frozen.
I lower my voice; it’s calm but has an edge of urgency behind it. “Get
out of the pool.” She doesn’t question me, and for that, I’m thankful. I
scoop up her robe and hold it out for her.
My cock jumps as she saunters up the steps. I follow the droplets of
water dipping into her bikini briefs, and my blood boils.
I’m trying to restrain myself, trying to rein in the raging beast caged
inside me.
She slips her arms into the robe and ties it in the middle. I take hold of
her hand, earning a small gasp of surprise. A sound I’ve become
accustomed to hearing. Her delicate touch does something to me; a fierce
need to protect her encompasses me, which is crazy, considering I’m the
one she needs to be protected from. How fucking ironic.
“I’m wet,” she utters as I steer her through the house and back into my
office, shutting the door behind us as she enters.
 “And I’m fucking hard,” I snap at her. “Drop your robe, let me see
you.” I sit back in my chair and part my legs, allowing a little more room
for my raging cock.
Her eyes flare with something, anger maybe? Desire? I’m not sure.
But when she drops the robe to the floor, all my coherent thoughts are
banished. “Fuck me, you’re beautiful.” A flush creeps up her cheeks as I
gaze over her body. Her plump tits are suffocated in the fabric, her lean
body is perfectly bronzed, and her hips are the perfect size to hold on to.
“Take off your top.” My rugged voice gives away my need for her, but
I’m past caring.
She opens the straps, allowing the flimsy fabric to fall to the floor.
Her nipples are peaked, begging for the taking, and my dry throat is
thirsty for them.
“Feed me your nipple.”
Her eyes widen as she tampers down a look of panic before she seems
to get control and steps toward me. My cock leaks pre-cum when she holds
her tit up to me and her fingertips brush over the tip.
My control snaps, and I growl and reach out, grab her ass, and hoist her
on my lap so she’s straddling me. I take her heavy breast from her and
clamp my lips around it, tugging it with my teeth, then sucking it hard to
take away the sting. I flick my tongue over the peak and suckle it into my
mouth greedily while my free hand squeezes the other.
She grinds her ass on me, and her hands find my hair, holding me in
place. Her need for me, her touch, makes me groan in pleasure.
I fumble with my belt, and she rushes to help me. I allow her the control
because I desperately want her to touch me. My hands roam over her ass,
dipping beneath the fabric and clutching at her cheeks before moving her
back and forth over me. “Oh god, Luca.”
I lap at her tit, pulling her flesh into my mouth and marking it. Let them
fuckers see who owns her. That thought alone sends me wild. I grab her
other tit, suck on her skin, marking her. Sinking my teeth into her. Let them
see. I fucking own her. She’s mine.
She moans and whimpers above me, and the moment her hand touches
my cock and she smears the wetness from the dripping tip, its game fucking
over for her having control.
I pull my mouth away from her tits, tear her bikini bottoms from her,
and pull the fabric from beneath her pussy. I lift her and hold my cock in
position, not giving her time to think before I slam her down on it.
She gasps, but I don’t allow her time to adjust to my length before I use
her. Slamming her up and down, stretching her little pussy to accommodate
me. “That’s it, take your man’s cock, wife. Let me stretch this little pussy.”
Her fingers find my hair, tugging on the strands as she tries to cling onto
something, and I love the sensation of her touch. I push her down harder.
“My fucking wife.” Thrust. She gasps. “My fucking slut to take my cock.”
Thrust. “Only mine.” She clenches around me. “Fuck yes. Give it to me.”
Clench. “Jesus, fuck.”
“Luca. Luca, I’m . . .” Her body tightens, and my balls draw up with
need.
“Oh fuck.” I exhale. Her mouth drops open, and without warning, I
plunge my tongue into her. I grab her tighter with one hand while I use the
other to grip her throat, giving her no choice but to welcome the assault on
her mouth as my orgasm explodes through me. Our kiss becomes wild and
passionate as we scramble for possession of one another.
I swallow back her mewls of satisfaction when my cock floods her
pussy and her pleasure ripples through her.
I fall back into my chair, taking her with me, our chests heaving in
unison and our bodies coated in a sheen of sweat.
“Fuck,” I grumble, finally satiated.
Our breathing regulates.
“What the fuck were you doing out there?”
 She raises her head from my chest and glares at me. The simple look of
annoyance on her face angers me. “Swimming,” she snaps.
“Swimming?”
Camille nods.
“With my men watching you?” I take her throat in my hand and
embrace the look of panic on her face when I tighten my grip. My tattooed
hand against her creamy complexion is a contrast of my darkness against
her light.
I’m aware I’m the one extinguishing it, but I refuse to let it shine. Not
without me there to witness it.
“Are you a little cock tease, Camille? Do you like my men watching
you? Is my wife a whore?” I loosen my hand to allow her to respond, and
my cock hardens at the control I have behind her actions.
“You know I’m not.”
I do know that. I know her pussy has been untouched. But she’s given
blow jobs, and it’s something that plagues my mind nightly.
“Who did you suck?” I stare at her lips, swollen from my kiss, and I
want them wrapped around me. I want to punish her for allowing another
man the pleasure of using her.
She attempts to shake her head, but I won’t allow it.
All the tension lifted from a moment ago is now back full force. I want
to punish her for her past indiscretions. For being her. The woman I hate.
I tug her from me, my cock slipping out of her as she stumbles on her
feet. As if knowing what I want, what I need, she falls to her knees, and the
sight of her naked, vulnerable, and freshly fucked makes my cock jump in
excitement. I rise to my feet and pump it in my fist. Staring down at her, I
wonder if he made her come.
“Did he make you come?”
Her face falls. “Luca . . .”
 I don’t allow her time to explain. “Shut the fuck up.” I surge into her
mouth, and she chokes, and my body tightens with the exhilarating
sensation. I grip her head, holding her in place, forcing her to accept my
thick, sticky length. My cock spurts the excessive pre-cum over her tongue
when she licks her juices from my cock without pausing.
My phone rings on the desk, and I lean over to see it’s Enzo calling.
“Don’t fucking stop,” I warn her. Her eyes flash at my instruction.
I press the speaker button.
“What?” I clench through gritted teeth when she swallows my cock past
the back of her throat, swallowing me whole. The sensation makes me
stumble slightly at just how incredible it feels.
“Josephine was pissed you missed the meeting.” His tone is slightly
accusing, and I don’t like it.
Camille’s hand moves to my balls, and my eyes roll to the back of my
head at how incredible it feels as I continue my assault on her mouth while
struggling to maintain conversation with Enzo. All coherent thoughts slip
away with each flick of her tongue.
“Did you hear me?”
“Of course I heard. Sack her.”
Enzo chokes in shock. “Seriously?”
She rolls my balls in her palms, and I stare down at her in awe. Fuck,
she’s beautiful. Her marked tits on display for me, my cum no doubt
dripping from her pussy. Pleasure zings through me at the image.
“Luca?”
My balls draw up as waves of pleasure rumble to the surface. “Shit,” I
whisper, unable to contain it any longer.
I pull my cock from her mouth; she gasps and pants for air, but I give
her no time as I wrench her head back in my hand and pump my cock over
her face. Ropes and ropes of cum spurting on her face. Marking her as my
whore.
 Mine.
My wife.
“Fucking sack her,” I snap back at Enzo and end the call.
My chest heaving, I drag the tip of my cock over her cheek, smearing
my cum into her skin. She kneels perfectly still, watching me.
I hold my cock out for her. “Kiss it.”
She leans her head forward and suckles the tip of my cock into her
mouth, giving it an open-mouthed kiss and cleaning it in the process. I hiss
through my teeth at how fucking perfect she is. Staring down at her, my
heart constricts with the glaring reality I feel something for her other than
hate.
If only she didn’t have poison running through her veins.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
In blood we’re bound.
In truth we live.

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Chapter Twenty-Four

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Camille

S omething changes in Luca. He stares down at me differently, like he

cares, a softness and longing in his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobs, then he
closes his eyes. When he opens them, all signs of any emotion are absent.
A veil slips over his carefully constructed walls, crafted to perfection.
Walls I know only too well.
He clears his throat as he tucks his solid cock back into his pants and
refuses to look at me. Hurt pierces through my racing heart, knowing we
have a connection, no matter how small. Something was there, a spark, a
glimmer of hope in this misery he created.
“Go and get dressed. I’m taking you out for dinner.”
I jolt at his words. Dinner? “Like an event?” I question as I rise to my
feet.
He buckles his belt, still refusing to give me his attention. “No, like a
meal.”
Excitement floods my veins, and before I can stop myself, the words
tumble from my mouth. “Like a date?” I clamp my lips shut as my cheeks
heat in embarrassment at how excited I am at the prospect of doing
something with him. Something other than him using me as a hole he
loathes himself to use.
His lips twitch before turning into a thin line. “Call it what you will. Go
change.” I tug on my robe and wipe the cum from my face with the sleeve.
He steps up to me and brushes the hair from my face. My body stills at his
action, then he grazes his finger down my cheek and slides it into my
mouth. The taste of his cum sends a shudder through me as I lick his digit
clean. Fire burns behind his eyes, and his muscles coiled tight beneath his
shirt. My fingers itch to touch him, to trace over the scars littering his body
while I ask about his tattoos and sink my teeth into the ridges of his solid
abs. But I remain frozen, our eyes locked. His tongue darts out, and I will
him to kiss me. My eyes plead with his. Can he not see the need in mine? I
mirror his, after all.
Removing his finger from my mouth, he takes a step back, and
disappointment lances through my chest. Then he tugs my robe tighter,
covering my chest. “I don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine,” he whispers,
his tone laced in possession, but something else too, almost gentle.
He turns on his heel, effectively shutting me out.
But as I head toward the door, for the first time ever, I feel a sense of
excitement being in Luca’s presence.
Maybe he doesn’t hate me as much as he thinks he does.
Maybe there’s hope for us yet.

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 LUCA

I don’t know what I was thinking asking her to go to dinner with me. I
wasn’t fucking thinking.
I keep trying to justify it in my mind; I’ll get close to her and see if I can
find anything out about her family. Use her as a pawn in my game.
But glancing at her from across my seat in the limo, I know I’m lying to
myself. I want to spend time with her. Not just fuck her.
My phone buzzes, breaking me from my thoughts, so I tug it from my
jacket pocket.

Maxim: Dinner, really?

Of course he has to bust my balls over something he has no place

questioning me over.

Me: Back the fuck up.

Maxim: (eye roll emoji)

Maxim: You ended it with Josephine?

Me: Yes.

Maxim: You mind if I hop on it?

 I chuckle. As if he’s ever asked me if he could fuck my sloppy seconds.

Me: Don’t you always?

Maxim: She’s a valuable asset.

He’s stating the obvious. She is a valuable asset. She has contacts in the
FBI. She can, has, and will cover up evidence when we need her to. My
gaze travels up Camille’s bronzed legs, over her white shirt dress, and locks
onto her blue unwavering eyes before flicking back down to my screen.

Me: It’s an order.

Maxim: Right.

Maxim hates when I use my authority over him. He sees it as an insult,

no matter how many times I explain it’s our way of life. It’s about respect.
“Why did you have to bring the limo?”
I grind my teeth as I meet her stare; the accusation in her tone pisses me
off. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”
She swallows, then gives a dainty shrug. “I just thought it would be nice
to not have all eyes on us.”
My eyes narrow, taking in her fingers playing with the belt tied around
her waist. Is she ashamed to be seen with me? Did the fucking doctor take
her places she preferred? My jaw locks as anger courses through me.
“I’m not ashamed of who I am. I want the world to know it,” I answer
with all honesty and pride as I spread my arms over the back of the seat and
widen my legs with arrogance.
“Of course you do.” She glares back at me with hate in her eyes, and I
seethe at that. How fucking dare she?
“I have no issue with slaughtering murderers and rapists, Camille. In
fact, I take pleasure from it.”
 She slams her mouth shut, controlling the spiel edging to spill from her
poisoned mouth, and I can’t say I’m not thankful for it. This is not how I
wanted the afternoon to go.
We spend the remainder of the journey shooting daggers at one another,
a simmering rage boiling between us. I itch to pull her over my knee and
spank her ass raw, then I imagine soothing it before turning her around and
fucking her into submission.
As if sensing my thoughts, her eyes dart to my hardened cock.
“Care to deal with that?” I raise an eyebrow and flick my eyes down to
my pants.
Her eyes narrow. “No.”
I throw my head back on a loud chuckle. One that breaks the tension
building between us.
The car comes to a stop, and I’m forced to adjust my cock, our eyes
remaining locked.

She hasn’t uttered a word, and I fucking hate it. She takes a small sip of her
wine before placing it back on the table and glancing around the restaurant
for the thousandth time, which makes my jaw lock in irritation.
The restaurant is one of the best in the area. Crystal-cut candle arbors
adorn the tables and the cutlery is gold; the whole place screams elegance
and prestige, but she’s acting out of place. Like she wasn’t brought up in
this opulence.
People wait months for a reservation here, and yet she doesn’t seem to
appreciate it.
“What’s the problem?” She fidgets with the napkin in her lap, refusing
to look at me. I lean across the table and can’t help my dark tone. “Camille,
look at me.” She meets my eyes, and my heart hammers to make everything
okay. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m not dressed right, for a start.” She swallows, and I glance around
the room, only now seeing what other guests are wearing when I’ve only
seen her.
Formal wear.
Turning back to her, I take in her casual shirt dress and give her a shrug.
“What else?” Her eyes widen at the question. “You said ‘for a start.’ What
else is wrong?”
I can see the wheels turning, wondering if she should voice her opinion
or not. Annoyance rumbles inside me. “Camille!” I warn, and she jumps at
my harsh tone.
“I thought we could go somewhere different?” She bites into her lip.
“Different?” I mull over her words. The only different I know would be
a strip club or a casino, and I highly doubt she wants to go to either of
those.
“I’ve never had a date before,” I confess, our eyes holding one another’s
hostage.
She chokes on a chuckle. “I highly doubt that’s true, Luca.”
“I don’t lie.” My tone darkens, forcing her to swallow.
“I fuck anyone I want, when I want. I don’t wine and dine.”
She huffs and rolls her eyes, and I allow my lips to smile at her mocking
me. No one else would dare do it, that’s for sure. Excitement rushes through
me at how different I feel in her presence. The pull of possession, longing,
and hate make for a heady combination.
“Pick somewhere,” I offer, and her eyebrows shoot up at my words.
When she nibbles on her lip, deep in thought, I know she has
somewhere in mind but doesn’t want to voice it.
“Anywhere,” I tack on to show I’m willing.
 Her eyes blaze with excitement, sending a bolt of adrenaline to my
cock.
“I have the perfect place.” She beams back at me, and my chest swells
with pride.
I did that.
Mine.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

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Luca

I curl my lip in disgust. “What the hell is this place?”

“A tiki club.” She beams.
“A tiki club,” I repeat like a moron. I’m in utter shock. People actually
come here? Since when did a Mafia princess attend a tiki club?
“I came here when I was in college,” she explains without me
prompting her.
I glance around the shithole they call a club. There’s even goddamn
motorized hula figurines. They look so happy I want to shoot the annoying,
outdated pieces of shit in the hula head.
“What can I get you to drink?” I turn back to a guy staring at me in a
Hawaiian shirt. In a club. Jesus fucking Christ. I run a hand through my
slick hair.
I cast my gaze around, acutely aware we stick out like a sore thumb in
here.
“I’ll have an orgasm, please. Luca?” My eyes dart in her direction. A
fucking orgasm? Is she kidding me?
She stretches up on her tiptoes and presses a gentle kiss onto the corner
of my lips. My heart thuds at the contact as my hands find her hips. I can’t
deny her playful smile is contagious. “Order me something,” I grunt out.
She beams in delight, then turns back to the bartender, who is staring at
us like a fish out of water. “He’ll have an angry balls.”
I glare back at her. “Very fucking funny.” She stifles a smile between
her teeth as the guy makes the drinks.
“Oh, hey, Cami. I’ve not seen you in here for a while. It’s so good to see
you again.” She freezes beside me, and I tense at someone recognizing her,
calling her fucking Cami. My wife is not a Cami.
 Our eyes dart to the voice in question, and I take in the beaming,
preppy-looking kid, another barman.
She clears her throat. “Hi.”
“Who the fuck is he?” My eyes don’t leave the kid’s as he darts his from
mine to Camille’s. My hand bands around her waist, and I press her against
my chest. A clear sign of ownership as I stare the punk down. My hand
twitches to put a bullet in him and be done with this facade. It’s clear he
must be the doctor, the guy she gave a fucking blow job to. Rage builds
inside me, my temples throb, and my jaw aches from grinding my teeth.
Camille tugs herself from me, and I allow her to, too tense to move.
“You’re being ridiculous, Luca. Miles is a friend, and he’s also not into
women.” She whispers the latter.
The punk chuckles—obviously he heard her too.
“Nope. Not into women. I’m into allll man meat.” His eyes roam over
my body as he licks his lips. And I’m acutely aware of what they’re saying.
I jump at the realization.
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” I mumble, dragging a hand through my hair
with a feeling of discomfort I’ve never felt before. Camille giggles, and I
shoot daggers in her direction. “Get the fucking drinks and let’s get sat
down.” I turn to walk away, looking for a table in this shithole.
“We’re not sitting down.”
Spinning around, I turn back to face her.
“I want to dance.” She grins.
My jaw tics. Is she being serious? “I don’t fucking dance, Camille,” I
snide out.
“I do.” She wiggles her eyebrows, then takes her drink and sips through
the straw. My eyes zero in on the way she wraps her lips around the straw,
and my cock jumps with eagerness.
Picking up the shitty green drink, I discard the ridiculous paraphernalia
they’ve trimmed the glass with, throw it back on the bar in disgust, and toss
the drink back, only to spit the retched poison out. It spurts from my lips
like something out of a movie. Camille doubles over in fits of laughter.
“What the hell was that?” I glare at the dripping liquid.
She struggles to catch her breath through her giggles. “Angry balls.”
I tug her toward me. “I’ll give you fucking angry balls. Go dance so we
can leave.”
She pouts adorably, and the action makes my lips twitch in jest.
“Camille,” I warn.
“Come on, angry balls, lets go dance.” She tugs me by the hand, and I
allow it, simply because I like this side of her, and I can’t deny I like her
touch.
“I won’t be dancing,” I reiterate.
“Okay, angry balls.” She giggles, her whole face lighting up, and my
blood races with a foreign happiness at her carefree expression. One I’ve
never witnessed before but long to see more of.

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 CAMILLE

I sway my hips seductively with his eyes boring into me. Eating me up. He
leans against the wall with his feet crossed at his ankles, watching me dance
for him. Only him.
People have kept a wide berth from us. His murderous glare toward
anyone stepping a foot near me made them second-guess their movements.
The man is the epitome of exhilarating danger with his dark, arrogant,
confident demeanor rolling off him in waves.
My body heats under his watchful eyes, desire swimming between us. I
move toward him, and his hand shoots out to pull me toward him by my
belt, so quick I stumble and have to latch onto his shirt for support. I giggle
as I glance up into his inky orbs of darkness. The heady attraction sits
heavily in the air as we become transfixed on one another, forgetting we’re
on a dance floor, in a nightclub.
He spins me so my back is against the wall, and his lips crash down on
mine. He blocks us from others while his hands roam freely over my body,
caressing my breasts and stroking the tips of my nipples, forcing a moan to
fall from my mouth. His hand trails down between my legs as mine stroke
over his solid cock, earning a deep growl from the back of his throat.
Arousal pools in my panties as his fingers move them aside, and he
spreads my slick wetness up and over my clit, which makes me moan in
need at his touch. He swallows down my needy whimpers with each gentle
glide of his fingers. A complete contrast to who he is. What he is.
I pop open the top button of his pants, and our lips part, allowing us to
take a deep breath, as we’re panting equally with desire.
“I don’t want to come here, Camille,” he warns when my hand grazes
over the tip of his cock.
“You won’t.” I pepper kisses on his jawline with the promise.
I swipe the pre-cum over the tip of his cock, and his dark eyes roll to the
back of his head and his lips part.
“I will if you keep doing that.”
I pump him in my fist, and he mimics the action, pushing two fingers
inside me.
“Camille,” he warns as I stroke over his silky length down to his balls.
“Luca,” I breathe before our lips meet again.
“Mmm, fuck.” His hips drive up as he presses down on my clit, eliciting
a heavy sigh from my lips. He sucks my lip into his mouth, biting it to the
point of pain, and I know he’s struggling.
“I want to come inside you,” he almost pleads. My hand freezes in
place, stopping the swift movement.
I pull back to stare at him, his hooded eyes glazed with longing.
“Me too,” I admit.
He gifts me with a firm nod before withdrawing his fingers and placing
the fabric of my panties back in place as I buckle his pants. He grimaces
when I graze his cock. It must be sensitive. I smile at the thought.
He bends down and nips my ears. “You’re everything I shouldn’t want.
But right now, you’re everything I need. You’ll be the death of me, Camille
Varros. But when I die, at least I’ll die happy.”
My heart soars at his words as I ignore the sliver of uncertainty in the
pit of my stomach from knowing how unpredictable and volatile he can be.
From knowing this is a veil.
Because we know, deep down, he hates me.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

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Luca

W e crash through the bedroom door like possessed animals, our

mouths smashing against one another, our tongues colliding in a mangled,
desperate mess.
“Fuck, I need you,” I pant as I tear her dress down the middle. “So
fucking bad.”
Camille tugs at my belt. “Mmm, I need you too. To fill me.” I kick off
my pants.
My cock spurts at her words. “Fuck. Yes. You need me to stretch that
little pussy.”
I place consuming kisses down the column of her neck, nipping at her
flesh, determined to leave my mark on her as my fingers tangle in her hair.
She winces as my teeth pull on her soft skin, and my cock throbs with
need. I help her tug off my shirt, reveling at the contact of her nails on my
chest. Her hands explore my chest feverishly, and my eyes close at the
sensation of her touch.
I usually only have sex with women with my clothes on, and I never
allow a woman control of my body like this. But with Camille, I allow her
the control. For now.
I back us up to the bed and take her in. The flush covering her and the
heaving of her chest make me want to pound into her with urgency. To fuck
her ruthlessly like an animal. To own every inch of her. Because she’s mine.
My wife.
“My wife.”
I said the words aloud without thinking but mean every one of them.
I take a step back and don’t miss the disappointed gleam in her eyes.
“Get on the bed, and take your panties off.”
 She gives me a swift nod before doing as I ask while I slip out of my
boxers and tug my belt from my pants.
Her eyes widen as I climb back on the bed.
“Hand me your panties.”
She leans forward to hand them to me. “Lie back.” She does so
willingly.
I lift her wet panties to my nose and breathe in her arousal. Fucking
edible.
A gasp leaves her mouth.
“Was this all for me?” I ask while I wrap the panties around my
throbbing cock.
“Yes.”
“Spread your legs and show me.” Heat flushes over her cheeks, but she
widens her legs and digs her heels into the mattress.
“Mmm, such a good girl, all glistening and wet for me.”
Her breathing stutters on my words, and my cock leaks into her panties,
blending our moisture together. Where it should be.
“Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
Her throat works with an uncomfortable swallow, and her eyes flit from
my raging hard-on to my face.
“Don’t make me ask again, Camille. Open your folds for me.”
She moves her delicate hand down to her pussy, forcing me to slow my
strokes to prevent myself from coming.
I watch in rapture as she uses her fingers to hold herself open. An
excited ball of anticipation gathers in my throat, forcing me to thickly
swallow.
“Use your other hand to circle your clit.” I kneel only a foot from her
pussy as her wetness drips from her tight little cunt down to her tight little
asshole, begging for the taking. My need for her skyrockets as my hand
works faster.
 “Oh god, Luca.” Her hand works quicker, her fingers coated in her
essence.
“Fuck. Say my name again. Say it and shove your fingers into your tight
pussy.”
Her fingers swirl around the outside, and I struggle to rein in my need to
control her. Then she pushes two fingers into her pussy. Fuck me, that’s hot.
Every muscle in my body tightens while watching her. Needing her.
“Fuck!” I pump harder, my balls drawing up.
“Are you tight?” I choke out like I don’t know the answer as to how
perfect she is.
“Yes. Oh god, yes.” She throws her head back and air rushes from her
mouth as her lips part on a scream. “Lucaaaa.”
“I’m going . . .” I grit my teeth. “Fuck.” My hand tightens as my cock
pulsates in my firm grip. “Fuck. Fuck.” I aim my cock over her pussy,
splashing her fingers and cunt with my thick, hot cum. “That’s it, fucking
rub it in.”
She rubs her clit as she comes down from her orgasm. “Shove my cum
in your cunt, Camille.”
I sense her lifting her head to watch me as I stare at her fingers
gathering my cum and pushing it inside her.
When she falls lax against the pillow, I remove her drenched panties
from around my cock, wiping the excess away with them as I straddle her
body.
I take a hold of my belt. “Arms above your head.”
Her eyes widen, and she licks her lips. I grind my teeth at her lack of
response. “Now!” My dark voice startles her, but she does as I ask, and
pleasure courses through my body at her compliance.
I lean over her, trying to ignore how spectacular her tits look. I take hold
of her wrists and wrap my belt around them, then I tie them to the
headboard. My cock pulsates to life at her widened eyes.
 “I’m going to use this little body of yours, Camille.” She sucks in a
sharp breath. “Use it and fucking abuse it.” I drag a finger down her face as
I position myself between her legs while snagging her panties from beside
me and bringing them to her mouth. “Open.”
She swallows. “Luca?”
“Open. Before I force your mouth open.”
Her lips part, allowing me to bunch the dripping fabric into her mouth.
Excitement rushes through me at the thought of her tasting us together
while I fuck her.
I give my cock a quick pull before finding her dripping pussy, then I
surge back and slam inside so hard she jars against the bed and tugs on the
restraints. I grip onto her hips, holding her in place.
“Fuck yes.” Her wet heat encompasses me and fills me with a territorial
pleasure. Possession. I pull out and slide back inside. “Fuck.” Picking up
my pace, I slam into her relentlessly, her moans are exhilarating,
encouraging.
“Take my fucking cock, little whore.” Slam.
My cock hits deep inside her, so deep she winces, and I fucking love it.
“Fuck. Take it all.” She clenches around so tight my swift movements
become more difficult with each thrust. I lift her leg over my shoulder, the
action allowing me to slide deeper with each thrust.
The headboard hits the wall, and each pound earns a fresh mark to the
paintwork. I ride her like a man possessed. Sweat coats my body, my cock
aches to release, and my balls draw up at the sight of her bound and gagged
with her cum-soaked panties. She moans against them, crying out her
release as she quivers below me, drawing the cum from the tip of my cock
with an exploding force, and my head drops forward.
I fight for air, perspiration dripping from me like a second skin. Her
body relaxes, and I take the opportunity to take her in. Fuck, she’s
incredible. The most perfect little fuck doll to own.
 My wife.
My cock swells at my possession, springing to life once again, twitching
deep inside her. Her lax body flinches with awareness of my consuming
need for her. I chuckle when my eyes draw up to meet hers. Withdrawing
my cock, I revel in the cum dripping from her pussy. I take hold of one of
her legs, raising it to my shoulder as my cum slips to her ass, taunting me.
I flip her onto her stomach. A garbled groan leaves her mouth, but I
choose to ignore it and instead lift her to her knees. I slip my thumb over
her tight, untouched asshole and delight in the fact my cock is at full mast.
Slowly, I push it inside her. A growl leaves my throat at the sensation of her
clenching around my digit. Fuck, I need to take her here.
Instead, I slide the tip of my cock inside her wet heat and fuck her ass
with my thumb while filling her pussy with my cum once again.

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 CAMILLE

He draws something with the tip of his finger gliding up and down my back
as though memorizing something.
I lie satiated on his chest. My body hums with a satisfied pleasure,
relaxed and fulfilled. I allow my mind to wander, imagining this is how
couples in love are after their lovemaking. I’m not delusional enough to
think ours wasn’t just a night of undulated passion, but lying here in his
arms, it’s easy to get lost in the moment.
When he came in me from behind, his body collapsed over mine. He
rolled us over and unfastened the restraints and allowed me to remove my
panties. Sweat coated his body, and his cock hung completely spent.
I expected him to get up and leave, but instead, he stroked the marks on
my wrists left behind by his belt and pulled me into his arms.
My stomach releases a loud growl, and I chuckle in embarrassment, but
Luca freezes below me.
“I’m sorry.” I rush for some unnecessary reason to explain. “I didn’t eat
much today.”
His arm tightens on me. “Do you need feeding now?”
I choke on an amused laugh. “I think you fed me enough tonight.”
His fingers find my chin, and he forces me to face him. The pinch of his
tight grip between his fingers makes me wince. “Don’t play fucking games.
Do you need food?” His dark glare is unreadable but deadly.
The instant change in his demeanor makes my heart race, and I can’t
help the tears welling in my eyes, and I hate myself for it. He seems to
notice too, because he releases my chin and tucks a lock of hair behind my
ear. Then he stares at me as though unsure of what to do or say.
“I’m okay, thank you. I can wait until morning.” I swallow back the
tremble in my voice, despising how quickly I can go from being relaxed to
on guard in his presence.
He licks his lips, and I don’t miss the rapid rise of his chest against my
own. “Lay your head down.”
I immediately do as he asks.
Slowly, I relax against him, but his body is still tense below me. I try to
ignore it while he works through whatever is going on in his mind.
He plays with my hair, and I want to mewl in contentment at the loving
gesture. I’ve never felt so close to anyone yet so far away at the same time.
“My mother would reject food. She tried to starve herself.” My body
stills at his admission, but his fingers still play in my hair, soothing himself
as much as me.
“My father force fed her. She was tube fed eventually.”
I swallow back the emotion welling inside me. Everyone knows Luca’s
mother hung herself when he was a young boy. It’s quite common in Mafia
families for a woman to take what they see is the only way out.
Imagining Luca as a small boy enduring such pain makes me squeeze
him tighter. Air escapes his lips, and he forces himself to swallow, clearly
affected by my affection.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe the words out against his tattooed chest while my
hands roam over his abs, caressing them and eliciting a shudder from him.
“I don’t like seeing women not eating.”
I turn my head to face him, and our eyes hold one another’s hostage.
 “I’ll be sure to let you feed me tomorrow.” I dip my head and place a
kiss on his chest before following it up with a lick. “Right now, you can
feed me your cock.”
His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Go on, then, suck me into your
little mouth. Suck me dry.” He nods toward his waist and lifts the sheet as I
crawl down his body prepared to blow his mind and fill my stomach with
his cum.
“Go ahead and eat, Camille. Let me feed you.”

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

I grind my jaw from side to side. Where the fuck is she? I haven’t been
able to get her out of my mind all fucking day.
When I should have been working, all I can think about is her. Has she
eaten? Does she wear my marks with pride today, letting everyone know
who she belongs to? My cock has been hard as granite and my mind
consumed with her. She’s released her poison into me, making me obsessed
—that has to be it.
Maria places the salad down in front of me with something similar to
sympathy in her eyes, and I fucking hate it.
“Should I?” She holds Camille’s salad up toward Camille’s vacant seat.
I snatch it from her hands, earning a gasp from her. “Fucking get out,” I
snap in her direction, ignoring the flash of hurt on her face. I practically
throw the plate at the empty space she should be occupying, and the salad
spills on the tablecloth.
Glancing at my watch, I notice she’s twenty-two minutes late, and fury
floods my veins as I push back in my chair and head toward the door,
swinging it open abruptly. One of my security steps forward. “Sir?” His
eyes dart over me.
“Where is my wife?” My temple pulsates.
His eyebrows furrow together, and he looks at me as though I’m an idiot
for not knowing where my own goddamn wife is. My hands ball into fists,
and he jolts registering the fact.
“Sir, she’s still at work. She didn’t mention she was running late this
evening?”
My mind whirls with what he’s just said. My body is floating
somewhere else. Work?
“Work?” I choke. What fucking work?
 The guy takes a safe step back, as though feeling the anger radiating
from me. “Work?” I ask again, sharper this time. Pain radiates in my jaw, up
my face, and into my temple as every muscle in my body coils dangerously
tight.
The douche licks his lips with uncertainty. “At the volunteer center, sir.”
“Volunteer center,” I mimic like some goddamn bird.
His breathing comes out rushed as he elaborates. “Yes, sir. Mrs. Varros
has worked since arriving here months ago. We were under the impression
she was allowed.”
“And what the fuck gave you that impression?” No women work in our
organization. Rarely, anyway. He knows this. Everyone fucking knows this.
“You said she was free to do whatever she wants during the day.”
Air is sucked from my lungs, because that’s precisely what I said.
“Shopping. Free to do shopping. Since when do women in our organization
work?”
He scans my face, and his lips move, but nothing comes out.
I hold up my hand. “Just take me to this fucking work.”
He nods with relief, probably grateful I haven’t shot him in his head, as
we make our way toward the door.
Aggravation pulsates through me, anger rages inside, coiled tight, and I
struggle to rein it in.
I’ll show her fucking work.

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 CAMILLE

I slam the filing cabinet drawer shut and groan. My feet ache like a bitch in
these heels, but when I attended court earlier with Holly, I wanted to look
the part. I might only be a volunteer, but I wanted to show a professional
approach alongside her attorney while giving her the support she needs.
It’s been a long day with proceedings running over by two hours and
ending in Holly’s husband being restrained and then arrested for
disturbance.
Raised voices force my mind away from the day’s events as I rush
toward the door to see what’s happening.
I collide with a solid chest.
His scent fills my nostrils, evading my senses.
I wobble on my heels, and he grips my arms to hold me steady. I bring
my eyes up to meet his. Fierce anger bores down on to me, and a lump
forms in my throat.
He backs me up, keeping a firm hold of my arm until my legs hit my
desk. He kicks the door shut with such force the door shakes under his
strength.
“What. In. The. Ever. Living. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here?” Each
word’s deadlier than the last. A threat of danger, of punishment. He must
feel the tremble that racks through my body, but he refuses to acknowledge
it.
“Fucking answer me!” he booms, spittle flying from his mouth.
I lick my lips. “I work here.” I raise my chin, feigning confidence as I
refuse to back down, refuse to be the notoriously downtrodden Mafia wife.
“You work here,” he mocks, but his words hold a sinister edge to them.
My throat goes dry as I scan his body.
His hands have boxed me in against my desk, and the fierce grip of his
fingers against the wood makes his veins protrude above the tattoos.
His firm ridges hidden behind his shirt, the ridges I long to explore, to
lick over. Each one now curled tight in anger instead of need.
I scan his neck, the tattoos peeking out from beneath his collared shirt.
The bulge of his guns in his shoulder holster makes his jacket drape around
me. The veins on his neck palpitate and travel up into the sharp cut of his
jaw. His expression is one of unadulterated fury.
For some reason, my mouth works before my brain. “You don’t own
me, Luca.” The air whooshes from his lungs, and my eyes close at the threat
emitting from him. Shit, why the hell did I say that?
He moves his mouth to beside my ear. “Wrong. I own every fucking
inch of you.”
He steps back, and my heart thuds against my chest at his absence as I
snap my eyes open. Before I have a chance to blink, he spins me to face the
desk. Pushing me down, he forces me onto my elbows.
He kicks my feet apart, and his large hands fumble with my pencil skirt,
dragging it over my ass. I breathe in sharply, and there’s a swoosh in the air
followed by a sharp, heated sting to my ass so strong I cling to the desk to
keep from losing my footing.
Swoosh.
I squeeze my eyes closed at the force of him spanking my ass.
“So fucking wrong,” he seethes.
 I peer beneath my arm to watch the pure masculinity emanate from him;
his eyes heavy with a glow of need transcending onto my ass.
A sharp smack pushes my hips against the desk, causing me to wince in
pain at the force.
Oh shit.
A flush creeps up my neck as his hand connects with my ass again, the
burn from his touch turning into numbness with each blow he delivers.
Trepidation races through me as heat pools between my legs.
Again and again, I take the spanking, my legs a quivering mess and my
panties dripping with unforeseen arousal.
How can I be so turned on by him punishing my ass?
“Have you any idea how much I hate every fucking inch of your perfect
body?” His words hit deep. He tells me he hates me, then follows it up with
how much he desires me. His heart and mind conflicted.
For some reason, my body has power over him. An urge consumes him
to own me in the best possible way. The outcome inevitable.
Hate.
His belt buckle flicks open and then his zipper lowers. He advances
between my legs, then the sharp snap of my panties fills the room.
He rubs the head of his thick cock between my legs, and a whimper
escapes my mouth. He grips my neck, forcing my head against the wood of
the desk.
“Luca?”
“Shut up and let me fuck you. Not a fucking word. Do you understand
me?”
He continues rubbing his cock around my opening, making me throb
with need. Then he releases himself to slap my ass at the same time as
tightening his hand in my hair with a firm grip, and I cry out at the sharp
pinch. “Do you fucking understand?” he grits out, his voice giving away
how much he’s teetering on the edge.
 “Y-y-yes.”
His grip loosens, and he goes back to rubbing his cock around my
pussy, spreading my arousal while teasing me in doing so. “Good. Fucking
good girl.”
He rears back and surges forward with such power the desk shifts
forward. He hisses through his teeth. The hand not holding my neck finds
my hip, biting into it with a firm grip. “Fuck, yes,” he breathes out as
though in pleasure already.
His cock stretches me but gives me no time to adjust before he pulls out
and pushes back inside. Again and again.
The desk moves with each thrust of his powerful hips.
A moan escapes my lips as my clit throbs.
He pants from behind me, pistoning in and out, the air filling with the
sounds of his grunts and the slapping of our combined bodies.
“Fuck. Why the hell do you have to feel so good . . . ?”
His voice trails off as though I’m not meant to hear. “Why fucking
you?” He slams inside me angrily.
His words hurt me, and my lip trembles. Because, truth be told, I’m
thinking the same thing. How can I want the man I should hate? How can I
crave his touch and attention when he loathes my own?
Why him?
His movements become rapid. “Fuck.” His heavy breaths fill the air.
“Fuck, I want you to come with me.” His words drip with need and
emotion, a tenderness I’ve never heard before. “I need you to.”
The words spilling from his lips tear my heart in two. He wants this as
much as I do, no doubt craving it as much as I do. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t
care about my need too.
One hand leaves my hip, and he brushes the pad of his thumb over my
swollen clit, earning a moan of approval and a clench from my pussy.
“Fuck. You like that, don’t you?” I moan again when he presses hard
against me, and I push my ass into him, encouraging his cock to slam deep
inside me.
“Oh god,” I can’t help but pant out.
“Fuck. Fuck.” His movements become erratic. The pad of his thumb
swirls in circles over my engorged clit before my body tightens around him,
my pussy convulsing.
“Luuuca.” My husband’s name tumbles from my lips in a desperate plea
when the force of my orgasm sends him spiraling into his.
“Fuck, Camille.” His cock expands, and his thick cum coats my inner
walls. His body drops lax against my spine as his chest heaves while folded
over me. He uses his forearms to hold the full weight of him off me.
“Fuck,” he mumbles as he nuzzles into my hair in an act of unusual
tenderness.
His leg moves from behind me, but he remains fully seated inside me as
his body pins me to the desk.
Without warning, I’m pulled back. He drops into the visitor chair he
pulled behind him, taking me with him, his semihard cock still seated in my
soaking pussy. I’m perched on his lap with his arms banded tightly around
my middle, almost protectively so.
The rise and fall of his chest against my back has me relaxing against
him. His hot breath ghosts over my neck, and he brushes my hair to one
side to allow room to place a delicate kiss on my neck, causing goose
bumps to spread out over my body and my heart to skip a beat before
returning his arm to around my middle.
One of my hands clutches his thigh while the other finds its way to his
hand. I glance down at his rough tattooed fingers, a complete contrast to my
creamy skin with French-tip nails. Death paints his hand like a second skin,
and I close my eyes at the thought of it. The danger, bloodshed, and pain
that comes from the very hands clutching me with something akin to
tenderness.
 “You belong to me, Camille.” His gruff voice is low with a possessive
growl.
“I know,” I whisper. His body seems to relax behind mine.
I draw circles on his hand, and he allows it.
“What are you doing here, Camille?”
His voice is monotone, not his usual demanding bark. I fidget, causing
his cock to twitch.
“I volunteer as a legal expert in the medical field.”
He lets out a dark chuckle. “Not the doctor you led us to believe, then.”
My spine straightens and my defenses rise. “I never said that.”
“But you led us to believe it.”
I shrug. “You never asked.”
His tone turns serious. “You weren’t home for dinner.”
My stomach flips at his mention of home.
“I’m sorry. I was at court today, and it ran over.”
His hands tighten on me, his muscles coiling. His voice darkens,
sending a wave of panic through me. “Court?”
Pissed, I spring up from his lap, taking him by surprise and breaking our
connection. His cum drips from me as I tug down my skirt and spin on my
heels. His jaw tics as he tucks himself back into his pants.
“Yes. Court, Luca. The poor woman I supported has been through hell.
I’m sorry if you misunderstood, I wanted to become a doctor. If you’d have
taken the time and asked, I’d have told you.”
He works his jaw from side to side and stands while buckling his belt.
Just as his mouth opens, there’s a knock on the door. Phil, one of the
lawyers working here, pops his head inside. “Cami, I’m just checking
you’re okay? You’re here late.” His eyes dart to Luca, who is standing
ramrod straight and staring at Phil with deadly intent. I move to stand in
front of Luca, the anger and power rolling off him, making me nervous as
hell at what he might do.
 “Is everything okay?” Phil’s eyebrows narrow on Luca as he steps into
the room.
“Everything’s fine, thank you, Phil. We were just leaving.”
Luca pushes past me. “That’s right, everything is fucking fine. I’m
about to take my wife home and fuck her senseless.”
Phil’s eyes widen, and his mouth drops open, gaping like a fish. His
eyes flick down at my ring finger, and I cringe when he takes in the absent
ring. I only hope Luca missed the action.
“I apologize. I hadn’t realized you were married. I’ll leave you guys to
it.” He gives a nod in Luca’s direction, but he remains stoic, glaring back at
him.
I feign the perfected smile. “Thank you, Phil. Have a good evening.”
He gives me a tight-lipped smile before closing the door behind him.
As soon as the door clicks into place, Luca turns to face me. Anger
pulsates from him. He swipes at the contents of my desk, sending it flying
to the floor. “Where the fuck is your wedding ring?” flies from his mouth
with venom.
I roll back on my heels, shocked at his outburst, and my body trembles
as I lean over the desk to open my drawer, taking my ring from inside and
slipping it onto my finger while ignoring his glowering presence.
As I turn to finally face him, he storms away. “Move your fucking ass.”
He pulls the door open and freezes at the name on the door. It hasn’t been
changed to Varros.

The drive back to the house is silent. I stare out of the window, avoiding
Luca’s seething eyes, my hands wringing in my lap as anxiety flows
through me. His glare is searing through me, a promise of punishment
evident.
 “Do I need to get my mark tattooed on you?”
I glance at my husband, his eyes locked on my finger. I swallow back
the nerves simmering inside. “No.” His eyes snap to mine. “I won’t give it
up, Luca.” My lip quivers. “I want to help people. It’s the only thing I
have,” I tell him with determination.
A flash of hurt mars his face before he blinks it away and turns his head
to look outside, and now it’s my eyes drilling holes into him.
He clears his throat, and I wait for the onslaught to begin. “You’ll
change the name on the door.”
Hope bubbles up inside me. “Of course.”
“And I want to know your whereabouts at all times.”
“Of course.”
He simply nods but doesn’t say another word.
I want to apologize; I want to crawl in his lap and tell him I’m sorry for
not acknowledging our connection. I’m sorry for not letting the world
outside of the organization know that I’m married.
Instead, I mumble out the few words I can muster. “Thank you, Luca.”
He never responds.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

I t’s been eight days since I saw Luca last. When I got out of the SUV, he
didn’t move, and when I asked him why, he refused to look at me, but he
informed me he was working away for a few days.
Hurt lanced through my chest, any progress in our tattered relationship
now thwarted even more.
I miss him. Even though he only allows me to see the small glimmers of
the man he could be, I miss him.
The house feels empty without his presence even though it’s full of
people. Full of security. I’m lonely. At night, I long for him to come home
and take me, even if it’s from behind with hate. I just need to feel him. I
wonder if he’s receiving satisfaction from someone else, the marriage
contract be damned.
He says I’m a poison in his veins. He feels like a remedy to my
sickness.
Maria has pity in her eyes most days, making it difficult to have
conversation with the only person that is allowed to converse with me.
Work has been solitude. When I returned the next day, my office had
been tidied and my door now has my true name inscribed in gold, and I
took a moment to trace over his surname. It felt poignant in some way that
this was the first time I accepted his name without it sickening me. I told
myself it was because it meant keeping the position, and refusing his name
would be akin to me losing everything I’ve worked so hard for, but it’s a lie.
“Camille. There’s a parcel on your bed.” My eyes snap up to Maxim. I
didn’t even realize he’d entered the library, too lost in thoughts of Luca.
“Maria, put it in there,” he tacks on the end.
“Thank you.”
 He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching me with
scrutinizing eyes. “He turned down two hookers last night. Hot as fuck too.
Either you have a tight little pussy made of gold or he’s actually scared of
the consequences.” I cringe at his crudeness but try not to let him see it.
Instead, I exhale as he turns to leave. “Pretty sure it’s not the latter,” he
throws over his shoulder.
My mind works over his words, and a glimmer of hope sparks inside
me. Because one thing I know about Luca Varros is he isn’t scared of
anything.
Maybe there’s hope for us yet.

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 LUCA

I flew back from a meeting in California this morning and went straight to
the warehouse to deal with the latest shipment.
My mind has been consumed with thoughts of my wife. I needed to put
distance between us, create a void. Because if I’m being honest with
myself, I like her. A lot.
The fact that my wife took it upon herself to work instead of spending
my money granted her a respite of my hate for her. She refuses to be the
wife she was born to be, and I admire that. Her words she once said play on
repeat in my mind. “For what it’s worth, I have passion outside of this
world you all choose to accept with no fight.” And how she stood her
ground, making me see her for the strong woman she is, has pride flowing
through me. Every fiber of hate drained in seconds at her determination to
not only keep her job but to help others.
I’ve had Enzo look into the company she works for, specifically the
cases she’s working on. The one case that made her late on that day was one
about a young woman being abused by her husband. I wanted to kill the
piece of shit, make him suffer, but I’ve bigger problems to deal with,
without taking out one of California’s best NFL players.
Sure, I was beyond murderous when I discovered she took off her
wedding ring, especially in public, but the realization that she’s more than I
expected her to be stunned me into silence.
And with that thought in mind, I had to create distance between us. I
was liking Camille, and that would become a problem. A big fucking
problem, and one I simply cannot afford.
Instead, I’ve been working away on jobs that I never normally touch.
I’ve been taking out my anger on those around me, burning the flesh from
their bones and ending their pathetic lives if I so choose to.
At night, I found solace in a bottle of scotch and comfort in my fist,
merely a means to an end after walking around with a perpetual hard-on all
day while thinking of my wife.
I watched her from afar, of course, the camera in her room granting me
an inside view into my wife’s life without me. I swear I could see
disappointment on her face when she closed her eyes at night and opened
them again the very next day.
Not once did she touch her pussy, obeying my instruction like the good
girl I know her to be. If only her blood wasn’t so fucking contaminated.
Tonight, we have to attend a charity event. I hate the fucking things,
schmoozing with every prick to walk the face of the earth.
I place the last cufflink on and stare into the mirror. My black shirt and
pants fit perfectly, tailored to my specification. I fasten my holster in place,
slip an additional gun into the back of my pants, and make my way to her
room, my heart thrumming as excitement fills my veins at seeing her again.
She doesn’t even know I’m back yet, and I can’t help but hope she’s
craving me as much as I am her.
I take a deep breath and slowly open the door, sliding into the room
before she even realizes, and watch her as she adjusts her earring in the
mirror.
The moment her eyes connect with mine, she sucks in a sharp breath of
air, and a flush creeps over her chest as my eyes roam over her delicious
curves. Her nipples pebble below the fabric of her blue dress, and my throat
goes uncomfortably dry at the sight.
I move to stand behind her as our eyes remain locked in the mirror.
Gently moving her luscious waves from her neck, I breathe in her scent and
place my lips gently against her skin. I stare into her sapphire eyes, feeling
a thousand things but saying none, instead choosing to show my control and
possession over her by surging my teeth into her and tugging at her skin.
She whimpers in pain and tries to move away, but I hold her flush against
me, allowing her ass to brush my steel cock.
“Have you missed me like I missed you, Camille?”
I lick away the bite, the taste of her copper making my cock jump
eagerly. Moving one hand to her tit, I squeeze it roughly, then run the pad of
my thumb over her nipple. My mouth waters to feast on her. To taste her
pussy once again. “Answer me, Camille. Did you miss me?”
My hand continues its assault while my lips graze on her flesh,
replacing my fading marks with fresh ones.
She pushes back against me, the action causing me to inhale quickly
with delight at her need for me. “Y-y-yes, I missed you.”
My cock leaks against my boxers, and my balls ache with need. But
hearing her admit she missed me means more to me than sinking inside her.
“Come, I don’t like to be late.” I take a step back, breaking the
chemistry, only to hold my hand out as a promise of what’s to come, and
when she turns to face me, her dress fitted to perfection, I can’t help the
gasp that escapes me.
She’s beauty personified.
Her hand slips into mine and everything feels right in the world. With
my wife by my side, we can conquer it all.
If only her blood was as pure as her heart.
In blood we’re bound. In trust we live.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

H e looked at me like a man obsessed. A man in awe. As though he

craved me.
Above all else, he looked at me with feelings, above the contempt,
above the hate, as though he longed for me in a caring capacity.
His eyes roamed over me with a deadly blend of possession and care,
causing my clit to pulsate with a thirst only he can quench.
I haven’t touched myself while he’s been gone, not for any other reason
than it not feeling right without him.
When my hand slipped into his, a connection fired between us, a spark
that sent my pulse racing, and I wanted nothing more than to throw myself
at him, giving him everything and so much more.
I glance at Luca, and his expression is void of emotion, but he stares
back at me, his dark eyes eating me up, and I thrive on it.
I bite into my lip and cast my eyes down.
“Camille.” His deep baritone voice a warning, and yet my clit quakes
with need.
My eyes snap up to his. “Come put those lips to use.” His legs widen,
and he unbuckles his belt. Without thinking, I unbuckle my seatbelt and
kneel on the limo floor at his feet.
He groans as he tugs his steel cock. My mouth waters at the sight of
pure masculinity oozing from him. With the stretch of his shirt down to the
pull of his pants due to his muscled thighs, he’s a deadly powerhouse of
control, and right now, that control is over me, because like a puppet, I open
my mouth and allow him to push the tip of his cock inside.
My eyes close on the feel of his velvety head, and I flick my tongue in
and around his slit, pulling the need from inside.
 “Fuck.” He bucks under my touch, and I swell with pride at the
achievement. At how eager he is for me.
He slides out and then inside deeper, almost carefully. “Mmm, fuck
that’s good, baby.” His soft words melt me, and when his fingers caress my
cheek, I open my eyes.
His dark orbs lock with mine as he slides in and out of my mouth with
measured grace. One of his hands tangles in my hair, and I know the
connection is lost when the familiar veil of contempt replaces his softer one
on his sharp, handsome face.
“Fuck, I need to come.”
I gargle around his cock, my mouth stuffed to the hilt, but I swallow
down, taking him with ease.
“That’s it, accept it all.” He feeds himself in and out of my mouth, and
his breathing becomes erratic with his tightened grip. “My wife. My good
little whore of a wife.” I moan on his words as his cock swells and he
releases his seed deep down my throat.
“Good. Good girl, letting me feed you.” He groans as he cups my face.
“Such a good fucking girl.”
He slinks back against his seat, allowing his cock to pull out with a pop.
“You look fucking beautiful on your knees for me, Camille.” He
chuckles, almost sardonically, causing me to glare back at him. I wipe my
lips with my fingers, popping them in my mouth to lick away any excess
cum.
His face falls serious as he watches the action, and I can’t help but preen
at the effect my body has over him.
Maybe his veil is slipping.
Maybe he does have feelings after all.

OceanofPDF.com
 LUCA

As soon as she steps out of the limo, her hand slips into mine, and without
thinking, I tug her flush against my chest, my lips crash down onto hers,
and I use my other hand to hold her head in place. A whimper escapes from
her when my tongue invades her mouth, and I swallow it down with
practiced ease. The taste of myself in her mouth makes my cock swell and
my balls ache with a need only she can satisfy.
I pull back, both of us breathless, her eyes wide with shock, and that
makes me chuckle. “I like my taste from you.” Her cheeks redden. “You
suck cock beautifully and taste even better.”
Her head dips in either embarrassment or disappointment, I’m unsure,
but I don’t like the thought of either, so I take a hold of her chin with my
fingers, forcing her to face me. “You look beautiful, Camille.”
Her throat bobs on emotion, and her eyes fill with tears. A sensation hits
me square in my chest I don’t care to recognize, so instead of dealing with
it, I pull away and tug my jacket into place.
“We best go inside. I don’t want to be late.”
I thread her arm through mine as we make our way through the doors
and into the ballroom. Glancing around like the predator I’m known to be, I
register the O’Connell family in the far left. My don, Lorenzo, to the right,
and Dominik seated at the bar.
 Dominik has only recently been allowed into our fold. Lorenzo and
Bren O’Connell agreed they would rather have him as an ally than an
enemy. Yet I’m still wary of the Russian that took Ravlek’s place so easily.
“I don’t want you to leave my side.” I side-eye my wife briefly before
training my eyes back on the room.
Her body tenses beneath my touch, and I glare back at her in question.
“What if I need the restroom?”
A chuckle escapes my lips. “Then I’ll take you for a piss.”
She rolls her eyes, and I squeeze her arm in warning. “Okay, fine. I
won’t leave your side.”
I take two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, handing her one
in the process.
“Good girl,” I can’t help but add, knowing how well she responds to my
praise. Her pupils dilate, and my cock stirs back to life.
She tilts her head, as though studying me. “I think you suffer with
separation anxiety.”
I can’t help but snort as the champagne clogs in my throat at her
analogy. An action I’ve never done before, therefore gaining looks of shock
from the guests.
“And I think your ass is heading for a punishment. Keep it up, Camille,
I quite like the thought of hurting you.”
She huffs, this time turning away from me. “Of course you do.” My lips
twitch at her remark. “You’re a sadist too.” I can’t help but break out in a
proud smile. That I am.
I bend low and whisper in her ear, “And you have a kink for praise.” I
don’t miss the shudder that rushes down her spine or the parting of her lips
on my words.
“Come, I want to introduce you to someone.” I lead her toward the
O’Connell table where Con O’Connell sits with his woman, Willow,
perched on his lap. He taps her thigh, and she stands, allowing him to step
forward and shake my hand.
“Luca.” He nods at me.
“Con, this is my wife, Camille.”
He holds out his hand for Camille, and I grimace at the thought of him
touching my wife’s skin, and my body tenses as they make contact. Like the
little prick he is, he winks at me while doing so.
“Camille, this is my woman, Will.”
“Really, Con? Woman?” Will nudges him aside and introduces herself
to Camille.
“Sit and talk to Will, I’ll be sitting right here.” I point to the next table
where Bren O’Connell is seated like a king. The man’s broad shoulders are
so wide he takes up more than one space. I sit beside him and watch as my
wife interacts animatedly with Will. There’s a reason I introduced my wife
to Will, and for the first time in my life, it wasn’t for an ulterior motive. Not
entirely anyway.
Will runs a domestic violence organization similar to the one my wife
runs. I figured she would like to have someone to liaise with that not only
works in the same line of work but also lives with the constraints of the
organization.
“You’re coming to the wedding?” Cal, Bren’s second-in-command,
asks. If I was Bren O’Connell, I would bypass him and make Oscar my
second.
My eyes don’t leave Camille as I reply coolly to Cal. “Yes.”
“It’s going to be fucking epic.” Con drops down in the chair opposite
me, a huge grin encompassing his face. I think the man is abnormal. No
male should ever be excited for his wedding day other than being able to
fuck his virgin wife. My dark eyes trail over him, and I internally shake my
head. He’s a good kid, by all accounts, but far too pampered for my liking.
 “What’s your thoughts on Dominik?” Cal asks, eyeing the man who
resembles a Russian version of Bren.
“I don’t trust him,” I admit.
“Me neither.” He glares daggers at Dominik’s back.
“I don’t trust anyone.” I snap my eyes to Cal’s.
His Adam’s apple bobs when he realizes he’s hit a sore spot. “Of
course.” He nods in understanding while I cast my eyes back to my wife.
Her genuine smile as she talks to Will has a warmth spreading through me.
The feeling alien but not unwanted.
“Boss. Lorenzo wants you.” Enzo hovers above me as I glance from
him to Camille. I give him a swift nod and rise from my chair.
I bend down to Camille. “Stay here. I’ll be back shortly.” Her eyes meet
mine, and she dips her head in understanding.
I turn, reluctantly walking away from my wife.

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Chapter Thirty

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

I can’t believe the number of things I have in common with Will. She
runs an organization for domestic abuse survivors. We swap phone numbers
and details and chat about how incredible it feels to help people not only
escape their pasts but to support them in creating a future and find justice in
one form or another. She tells me about her past and how her father had
attacked her and her unborn child and then later how her brother tried to kill
her.
She’s beautiful and sassy, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I
have a friend I can be myself with. I didn’t miss the flash of sympathy on
her face when I explained who I was, though I’m sure she would have
already known.
In their Mafia family, they don’t have arranged marriages, which I find
odd. Apparently, at one point, Cal was due to marry someone as a business
deal, until he found his first love living with his son he knew nothing about.
So instead of her marriage being arranged, she gets to marry her
childhood sweetheart, Con. They have a little boy together, and Will even
explained that Con wasn’t there at the beginning of his life, so when he
found out about their son, Keen, he wasted no time in claiming them both.
Next month, I’ll be attending their wedding, which is news to me, but I’m
excited to see her again, and with how eager Con is to marry Will, it sounds
like the wedding is going to be memorable in the best way possible.
A pang of jealousy hits me at the thought of marrying someone you
love, but I smile through it, refusing to let my disappointment tarnish
anything of Will’s. The woman has been to hell and back, so she deserves
her happiness. I only hope one day I’ll find a sliver of what she has. I
glance over my shoulder at my husband’s back as he walks away to speak
with Lorenzo, and a deep-seated ball of dread manifests in my stomach
because part of me thinks I could fall in love with Luca. But would he ever
allow himself to fall in love back?
Never.
In blood we’re bound. In trust we live, after all.

He’s been gone longer than I expected.

I try to avoid Con’s blatant show of affection toward Will—it’s both
sweet and sickening. When my eyes catch onto Bren’s, he shakes his head
in their direction, and I stifle a giggle. I take another sip of my champagne
and glance around the room again. Every couple on the dance floor appears
to be in a loving embrace, so I don’t let my eyes linger on them, instead
roaming my gaze toward the bar so my mind doesn’t fixate on loving
couples and what could have been.
My heart beats rapidly and my throat goes dry when my gaze meets
with a familiar face from my past, Tony.
I rise to my feet and make an excuse of needing the restroom, but Bren
stands as though he’s going to follow me. “It’s fine, I need to pee. I won’t
be but a minute.” He grimaces at my words and allows me to walk away.
Stepping away from the table, I sense Bren’s eyes on me, so I walk
toward the corridor leading to the restroom. A hand snags out, and I’m
tugged onto an open-top patio area where guests are chatting.
Tony’s handsome face comes into view, and I can’t help but throw my
arms around his neck and sob into him. “Shhh, it’s okay.” His hand trails
down my back.
He gently pulls my arms from around him and takes my face in his
palms. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
I hiccup at his gentle words. “You shouldn’t be here.” I glance around
the area and begin to panic.
 “I need to give you this.” He digs in his pocket and takes out a familiar
gold chain. One that makes my heart stutter and crumble all at the same
time. My brother’s chain. I take it from him, squeezing it in my palm.
Emotion clogs in my throat, so I clear it and swipe away the tears on my
cheeks before composing myself enough to raise my chin. “You should
keep it.” I hold out my hand for him to take the chain back.
His blond hair drapes in front of his handsome face. “Nah. He’d have
wanted you to have it.”
I nod in understanding and make quick work of clicking it into place
around my neck so not to lose it. I tuck it beneath the material of my dress,
acutely aware of how long I’ve been gone.
If they find him here, they’ll hurt him. “Tony, you need to leave.”
He opens his lips to reply but doesn’t get very far because his words are
cut off when my arm is tugged back and I’m pulled against the hard chest of
my husband.
“What the fuck are you doing out here?” His eyes go from my panicked
ones to Tony’s widened ones. Fear mars his features, and his Adam’s apple
bobs as my husband’s eyes narrow on him.
“I . . . I tripped and he made sure I didn’t fall,” I lie unconvincingly.
He sees it, of course, and his grip tightens, painfully so. “We’re
leaving.”
His feet move toward the corridor, and I stumble behind him. Glancing
over my shoulder, Tony watches from the doorway as I’m dragged away by
my husband.
A tear slips down my face for not only my loss but his too.
In blood we’re bound. In trust we live.

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Chapter Thirty-One

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Luca

I try to tamper down the raging storm escalating inside me as I sit

opposite her. All hate that had simmered down recently has now resurfaced
at her deceit. I grind my teeth from side to side when she refuses to look at
me.
My chest heaves, and my fingers twitch to punish her.
We sit in silence until the limo comes to a stop outside our home.
As soon as possible, I rip open the door, not waiting for the driver to
open it for me. “Upstairs,” I bark over my shoulder as I storm into the
house, heading straight to her room.
Her heels clack behind me, and her steps on the staircase are slow with
trepidation. She should be nervous; I’m about to unleash hell on her.
My body is so tense the muscles hurt when I breathe, and she steps into
the room and closes the door behind her with a soft click.
“Is he the doctor?” I spit. Even asking her makes my heart pound with
anger at the thoughts of her seeing the guy she sucked off, the one she has
feelings for. The one she wanted a future with, in a little nice house with a
white picket fence. The one that makes me hate her even more because she
belongs to me. Not him.
Her eyes meet mine, and she replies with a confidence that makes my
blood boil. “No.”
My temper skyrockets, and I swipe the contents of her dresser to the
floor with a loud roar, then fly toward her to grip her throat in my palm and
back her against the door. Her head drops against it with a slight thud.
Her lip quivers, but I don’t care. “Don’t lie to me, Camille!”
She trembles beneath me. “I’m not lying, I swear it.”
I press tighter on her throat, not enough to do harm but enough to give
her warning of my heightened temper. “Who was it?”
 She swallows under my touch. “A friend of Christian’s.”
I hiss in response at the use of her brother’s name. Even hearing it sends
me into a fit of fury, and she knows it. A lone tear trails down her cheek,
and I track it until it falls onto my hand, severing the connection with her
throat, and I release her as though burned and step back.
Her shoulders sag in relief, but it’s to be short lived.
“Drop the dress.”
“Luca?” She whimpers with a shake in her voice.
“Drop the fucking dress, right now!” She flinches.
Another tear falls as I stand stoically still watching her undress in front
of me. Her hands shake as she finds the zipper behind her neck, allowing
her dress to pool at her feet and leaving her standing in her heels and white
lace panties, all of which were picked out by me. My nostrils flare with a
need to punish her, a jealous rage evoking feelings so strong I feel
downright murderous.
My gaze travels up her body, noting her hands fidgeting at her side. Her
toned stomach makes me swell with pride at the thought of how she’s filled
out since being under my supervision, up to her heavy tits, her peaked
nipples perfect for plucking between my teeth.
Then my eyes latch onto a necklace that is most definitely not
something I bought her. I step toward her. She backs away from me and
stumbles, the heels of her shoes catching in her dress as I approach her.
I grab her before she falls on her ass and throw her onto the bed, then
quickly take hold of her hair in my palm, forcing her head back, causing her
throat to stretch and her mouth to fall open in shock or pain. Either way, I’m
past giving a shit right now.
I snatch the chain from her neck, snapping it in the process before
storming over to the fire.
“Luca, please!” She throws herself at me, but I ignore her pleas as I
throw the chain at the fire. She falls to the floor in a heap, crying. Crying
over some fucker’s chain. Not over me. Not over her behavior.
I turn to face the fire to disguise the constricting of my chest, the pain of
her betrayal. It’s so strong I have to place my hand on the wall to stabilize
myself. To ground me to the spot so not to punish her ass for the torment
she’s caused.
My ring glows under the flames, and I twist my head to the side to
witness it. My heart hammers at the thought.
“I hate you! I hate you!” she screams. Now more than ever, her words
slice into me.
I take a measured step back and allow myself to breathe in a calculated
breath as I make myself a promise.
I’ll show her fucking hate.

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 CAMILLE

He turns on his heel, advancing on me, and I crawl back on my ass until I
hit the bed, then he wrenches me up with a firm grip. His ring is between
his fingers, and I stare at the tree engraved on it. Before I know what’s
happening, he’s pulled my head to the side with a sharp tug of my hair.
“Ah!” The burn against my flesh as he presses the ring to my neck
makes me squirm under his control. His black eyes flare with possession at
his branding of me. “Mine!” He callously drags his tongue over the tear
trailing down my cheek, licking me from my chin all the way up to my eye.
They shut to block out his demonic glare of hatred of me.
“Get on the fucking bed.”
He steps back, kicks off his shoes, and rips open his shirt.
I sit on the bed watching him, my knees drawn up to my face.
His whole body vibrates with a power force of hate and hunger
combined, a deadly concoction that simply terrifies me.
“Tell me to stop.” I lift my eyes to meet his. They drill into mine,
holding me hostage with such force I struggle to swallow.
He pulls the belt from his pants. “Tell me to fucking stop, Camille.”
He wants me to tell him to stop, to restrain himself. For him not to
unleash the manifestation of fury he feels on me.
 But I relish the fact he loses all control around me. Love that he hates
how much he can’t control himself, meaning inadvertently I have all the
power. For once, I have the control over him.
I raise my chin in disobedience. “No.”
His body falls lax, almost in disappointment. When I expected each
ridge of his body to be coiled tighter, he relaxes. A strange calmness washes
over his face that sends a chill down my spine. He tilts his head to study
me.
“Roll over.”
I do as he asks, as though a cautious prey being tracked by its predator.
No sooner than I am on my stomach does he tug me by my ankles so I’m at
the end of the bed, and I gasp in surprise.
“You should have told me to stop.” His finger skims down my spine
gently, but his words hold a thousand promises of punishment.
The truth is it would hurt me more to utter those words. To finally
witness whether he is a monster after all.
I tilt my head to see him flick open a knife and cut my panties from me.
I swallow past the lump in my throat when our eyes lock, the intensity
around his stare making me bury my face into the bedsheet.
There’s a crack in the air, and it’s not until I realize the shooting pain on
my ass is from the belt that I fully register what he’s done.
A slice of fire cuts into my skin as I ball the sheet in my fists and cry out
in pain. “Are you going to beg me to stop?”
Smack.
“Try it.”
Smack.
“See what fucking happens.”
Smack.
Tears streak my face.
“See if I fucking care.”
 Smack.
“See if I’m a monster, like your piece of shit brother.”
Smack.
I sob into the sheets.
“Tell me to fucking stop!” he wails louder.
Smack.
“No,” I whimper.
The belt falls to the bed.
My ass is on fire. It hurts far more than his palm spanking me.
His zipper opens.
“Get on your knees.”
I try to get up but with sobs racking through me I struggle.
“On your fucking knees, Camille,” he barks again.
I get on all fours but fall forward when his rough hands pull my thighs
wider. He tsks, the sounds mocking, menacing from his lips.
I turn to see him picking up his belt, so I scramble up the bed.
Luca ignores me and instead crawls on behind me. He pulls me up by
my hair and threads the belt around my neck before allowing me to fall
forward onto the mattress.
Tugging the belt, he lifts me to my knees with one hand while using his
other hand to travel over my thighs and between my legs. He grips my
pussy, strumming my clit with his forefingers, and I whimper. A sharp slap
against my clit makes me suck in a shocked breath.
I’ve no idea how I must look, but when I drop my head to glance under
my arm, his eyes are latched onto my ass with a primal stare that sends fear
coursing through me.
Sensing my gaze, he snags the belt, forcing my head upright to face the
headboard. The leather digging into my throat gives me no option but to
obey.
 He spits and it hits my ass. “Sure you don’t want to tell me to stop?” He
swipes the spittle down the crook of my ass, and I flinch when his thumb
moves over the tender flesh.
I swallow against the leather of his belt.
Do I? Do I want him to stop? My heart tells me yes, that we’re going
too far in this fight for control, but my head refuses to listen, so I utter,
“No.”
He hisses through his teeth, and I imagine his nostrils are flaring as he
pushes past my tight barrier with his thumb before quickly removing it and
replacing it with the engorged head of his thick cock. He spreads his pre-
cum and spittle around my asshole, and I struggle to maintain my
composure of what’s to come.
He pulls back. “I told you to stay at the table, Camille.” He gives my ass
a sharp smack, and I groan at the contact against the already burning flesh.
“I find you outside, chatting up a fucking stranger like a whore.”
“He wasn’t a stranger,” I fight back, immediately regretting it.
“He was to fucking me!” My body goes still at his loss of control once
again. “Did you let him touch you?”
“No.” My voice quivers.
“Liar!” He smacks me harder this time.
“A lying poisonous little cunt. A fucking whore. That deserves to burn
in hell like her piece of shit brother.”
I close my eyes with the hurt of his words, but they shoot open as a
searing, burning pain slices through my ass when his cock slams all the way
in without further preparation.
My body freezes at the intrusion, struggling to register the thickness
now wedged deep inside me.
He stays there, his breathing heavy above my whimpers of pain. I bite
into my bottom lip, tasting the copper on my tongue.
 “Fuck. That’s good,” he pants. “My little whore to fuck.” He pulls out,
then thrusts back inside. Each movement hurting just as much as the last.
“Mine to fucking use.”
Thrust.
I curl my hands into the sheets.
One of his hands remains on my hip while the other holds his belt as he
thrusts ruthlessly in and out of my ass. Each snap of his hips is controlled.
Our slapping flesh fills the air with his loud grunts each time he bottoms out
inside me.
I feel every inch of his agonizing punishment and hear every sound of
his labored breathing. “Fucking slut.” I feel every hateful word. “I hate you
so fucking much, you conniving little whore.”
Slam.
“Fuck. Holy fuck . . .”
With a roar, he drives all the way in and holds himself there, deep in my
ass, as his cock expands and warmth fills me.
Luca’s body drops on mine, forcing us to collapse face-first on to the
mattress. His heavy weight makes it difficult for me to breathe, and I finally
release the tears I’ve been holding inside. They flow from me freely, all my
strength dissipated beneath his body, my heart breaking. We went too far.
We both went too far.
He tenses above me, quickly removing his cock, and I wince in agony.
“Fuck,” he grumbles as he stands to his feet.
Silence fills the air, time suspended, apart from my sniffles of self-
loathing, and when the bedroom door opens and closes, I curl into a ball,
my heart breaking all over again at my husband leaving me.
The fire flickers, and my eyes stay transfixed on the glow. I wonder if I
should throw myself in and join my brother’s chain.
My eyes scramble over the embers and ash, searching for the chain,
wondering if it’s melted, gone, a simmering ball of pain like me.
 Is it gone? Like everything else I have left of him.
Erased like he never existed.
The door opens, and my heart stutters in panic at the thought of Maria
seeing me naked and broken. Instead, Luca’s familiar scent washes over me
as he scoops me into his arms. He lifts me with ease as he walks us
completely naked out of my bedroom and strides toward his room, and I
look up from his chest. His eyes are transfixed ahead as though blocking me
out.
He kicks open his door and knocks it shut.
For the first time, I’m in his private space. I raise my head to look
around, and I’m unsurprised to find it all black. Like his eyes. Like his soul.
Black. A void of emotion.
I don’t have time to take in his room any longer because he marches us
into the bathroom. The bright lights make me squint, and when I finally
adjust, he’s staring down at me with a softness I’ve never seen before. I
glance around, taking in the large bath filled with attractive-smelling oils.
He lowers me to my feet, but I wince at the shooting pain in my ass, and
he freezes. My lip trembles when I meet his gaze, and I remain silent as his
Adam’s apple bobs, and his eyes are transfixed on mine, filled with an
indescribable emotion I struggle to recognize on him.
Snapping out of his daze, he moves around me and steps into the bath
but doesn’t lower himself. “Come.” He holds a hand out for me to join him,
and as I slip mine into his, our eyes clash. For the first time since meeting
Luca, I see guilt swimming in his eyes.

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Chapter Thirty-Two

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Luca

S he struggles to settle her ass into the tub due to the pain. Due to the
ruthless way in which I took out my hate of her and her family.
When she told me she didn’t want me to stop, I hated her even more
than before. A savage beast ripped from inside my chest, determined to
destroy everything in its wake.
I want her so bad it hurts; I want to hate her. I need to hate her. She’s the
only thing I have left in the world to hate right now. So why, then, do I
crave her touch, her attention, her love for me?
I know why she let me fuck her so ruthlessly—she wanted to watch me
unravel, to lose my carefully constructed control and watch it deteriorate
epically.
She wanted the control over me for once.
I gently sponge over her shoulders and down her arms as she sits
between my legs. She’s silent as she rests her head on her knees drawn up
against her chest, and I hate it. But I understand I hurt her tonight; in more
ways than one, I hurt her, and now her defenses are up. I’m unsure what to
do to make it right, unsure how far I want to go to prove to her I’m sorry
without uttering the words, no matter how much I want her to hear them.
I lean forward and place a delicate kiss on her shoulder before relaxing
my back against the tub, giving her space. She uncurls her arms from her
knees but otherwise sits stoically still.
I clear my throat, not liking the lack of emotion from my normally
feisty wife. “Lean against me, Camille,” I whisper.
She shuffles back but whimpers, and my heart constricts at the pained
sound. Not giving her the option, I tug her against my chest, allowing her to
fall back and rest against me. I band an arm around her middle while the
other gently washes away my sins, and I relish the fact she allows me to.
 Her body eventually falls lax against mine, and I breathe in her scent,
nuzzling in her hair. She makes me feel things I never knew I was capable
of feeling, but I hate myself more for feeling them.
I place a kiss against her head, and my heart swells when she entwines
her hand in mine.
Emotion clogs in my throat. “I’d have stopped,” I all but choke out.
She turns her head over her shoulder to face me, her blue eyes clashing
with mine as her tongue wets her lip in uncertainty. The intensity of our
stare causes my body to lock tight. “I know.” The moment those words
leave her lips, I exhale deeply, relief draining from my body like blood
draining from a lifeless corpse.
Knowing she doesn’t see the monster as I see myself as means more to
me than I would ever admit. It means every-fucking-thing. I’m nothing like
him.
“I see you, Luca.” Her hand grazes my jaw, and I snap open my eyes.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I admit through choked emotion.
I wait for her to say something. To say anything, but when she turns and
rests her head back against my chest over the thrumming of my heart, I’m
grateful. Worried I’ll fuck it up once again with my careless tongue, I bask
in the moment of our shared silence of understanding.

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 CAMILLE

Luca flicks the cap of the lotion back on. His tenderness when applying the
lotion to my ass almost made me feel sorry for him—almost. My eyes
roamed over his room, and I found nothing personal on display. It’s empty,
like him, and my heart ached at the thought.
He flinched each time I did, as though feeling every wince and burn of
pain on my swollen flesh. Each whimper was treated with a gentle kiss on
my unmarked skin, as though righting his wrongdoings with tenderness.
The burn on my neck was tended to with equal care, but the gleam of
possession that flashed into his eyes left me with no doubt he wasn’t
apologetic for the branding.
He lies beside me with an arm behind his head, his eyes traveling over
my body as though waiting for me to do something. Does he expect me to
leave? I glance at the door in question. Then he sighs and tugs me against
him, gently lifting my leg to rest it over his waist. He brushes my hair over
my shoulder and kisses my head as he strokes over my locks.
A comfortable silence hangs between us. The steady thrumming of his
heart against my cheek and the rhythmic touch of his finger up and down
my arm and into my hair fills me with contentment.
My exposed body shudders in the night air, so Luca wraps his arm
tighter around me and pulls the black satin sheets over my lower body. I
nuzzle into him like a cat, and I swear he smiles against me as I do.
He entwines my fingers with his, and when he squeezes my hand as
though seeking reassurance, I can’t help but smile against him.
“I can hear your thoughts, Camille.”
I scoff. “Really? What am I thinking, Luca?” I raise my head, resting
my chin on his chest, and our eyes lock.
His Adam’s apple bobs. “You’re thinking how you forgive the monster
inside me.” I watch in stunned silence as he swallows, his heart hammering
beneath me. Is this an apology? Maybe it’s as close as I’ll ever get to one.
When he makes no move to speak, I sigh and rest my head back on his
chest. He’d never apologize; he’s a Mafia man through and through.
His fingers draw circles on my shoulders. His voice cuts through the air
and sears through my heart. Raw and vulnerable. Dark but cherishing.
“We’re like Romeo and Juliet, Camille.”
I still, my heart thumping against his, battling for strength, fighting for
an anchor. How can he possibly compare us to them? They fell in love, they
wanted to be together. Luca’s war is with himself, nobody else. Anger
simmers inside me. He chooses to live this way. When he could change it
all, he refuses, clinging onto some promise of vengeance that plays no part
in the alliance. But still he refuses to stand down; that’s why he refuses to
show emotion toward me.
“You’re wrong.” His body freezes, the tension radiating from him in the
blink of an eye. But still I go on. “You’re more like Shakespeare. You wrote
the damn war, Luca.”
I grit my teeth as I wait for his comeback. Wait for the venom to spew
from his mouth. Instead, he simply sighs, his body draining with what I can
only imagine is realization. “Then our fate is already written.”
I sag against him. He’s no intentions of stopping whatever plans he has.
No intentions of stopping the war, and he’ll watch me burn to do it—tonight
is proof of it.
 “Then rewrite it,” I whisper so quietly I know he won’t hear it. I ignore
the lone tear that falls down my cheek and close my eyes.
Imagining that Luca Varros doesn’t hate me.
He’s rewritten our destiny, and he might actually fall in love with me
one day too.

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 LUCA

I felt her body sag in disappointment when I told her our fate was sealed. I
felt her tear fall to my chest and the stuttered breathing as she tried not to
expose her weakness. Me.
I lie awake all night thinking about how I can solve my problems, still
have my vengeance, and keep her too, but every conclusion I come to has
the same outlook. Her blood is still filled with the poison of her family, a
venom so powerful it may render me powerless to thinking rationally.
Maybe that’s what her family hoped for. Maybe then they’ll strike and seek
vengeance for the blood I shed.
No, I need to remain fixed on my target. I’ll put more pressure on my
men to find reason for Lorenzo to break the alliance once and for all, and in
the meantime, I’ll enjoy Camille until I rid her of her sins too.
My heart skips a beat at the thought of harm coming to her. Her delicate
breaths blow a whisper across my chest, and she whimpers in her slumber.
No doubt she suffers from similar nightmares that plague my sleep too.
Only, in her dreams, the demon is me.
In blood we’re bound. In trust we live.

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Chapter Thirty-Three

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

I stretch out on the bed, the feel of the sheets foreign to me, and my eyes
shoot open. Glancing around the room, last night comes back to me like a
wrecking ball, breaking down every barrier I’ve carefully constructed.
“Get up. We’re going out.” Luca rises from an armchair in the corner of
the room. My eyebrows furrow. When did he wake? Was he sitting there
watching me?
“Where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer—of course he doesn’t. He’s back to being an ass.
Instead, his jaw tics and he picks invisible lint from his crisp white shirt that
stretches across his olive skin. I take in his hair, wet and slicked back, no
doubt from showering. He stares down at me, his dark eyes holding mine
hostage, waiting for me to move without question.
I sigh in defeat and sit up but then wince from the shooting pain
radiating from my ass. Luca’s eyes instantly soften in understanding.
“We’re going to my sister’s,” he adds, then looks away like he didn’t just
drop an epic bomb on me. The same sister he wouldn’t even allow me to
look at during our wedding.
“Does she hate me too?” My voice comes out weak, and I can’t help but
panic at the thought of Emilia hating me.
“Probably,” he tacks on, and I want to kick him in the balls. He refuses
to look at me, instead glancing down at his watch. “We leave in fifteen
minutes. I don’t like waiting, Camille.”
My temper skyrockets as I throw off the sheet. Of course he’s had time
to shower and prepare, oh, and time to sit there staring at me, and now he
tells me I have fifteen minutes to get ready for a meeting with his family
that no doubt wants me dead.
 I storm toward the bedroom door, cursing him under my breath. “Don’t
you dare leave this fucking room naked!” He booms from behind me, and I
jump. I spin on my heel to find him thrusting a robe into my hand, and I
snatch it from him and throw open the bedroom door, his baritone chuckle
follows me down the corridor.
“I fucking hate you, Luca!” I scream over my shoulder.
“Of course you do.” He chuckles darkly.

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 LUCA

I can’t take it anymore; she’ll have no fucking fingernails left if she

continues gnawing on them like some demented animal. Then how’s she
going to scratch down my back like a wildcat while I fuck her into oblivion.
“Camille!” I snap, causing her to lift her head to face me. The look of
vulnerability shines in her eyes, causing a pain to sear through my heart and
finally forcing me to admit the truth. “Emi doesn’t hate anyone.” I grimace,
knowing that’s a lie. “She won’t hate you.” I attempt again, with honesty
this time.
She swallows and trails her tongue over her bottom lip, and my cock
swells at the action. I stroke my palm over it and relish with the flare in her
eyes. I chuckle. “I’ve awakened a sex fiend.” I smirk.
Camille scoffs. “You’re the fiend, Luca. My ass kills.” She glances out
of the window, and I grind my teeth at her shutting me out so quickly when
I was trying to be nice.
“I’ll fuck you whenever I like. However I like.” Her body tightens with
anger, and I smile to myself with delight. She might not admit it, but this
fight between the two of us is as loving as it is hateful, and I sure as fuck
crave it.
“Until I say no.” She turns to face me, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
 But her words make anger boil inside me. She hit me where it hurts, and
she knows it. “I’m not your brother, Camille,” I snipe back, earning a
venomous glare.
How fucking dare she be angry with me? I’m not a rapist.
“I’m not some sadistic fucking rapist!” I grit out. I don’t know if it’s my
tone or words that make her shudder, but when I meet her eyes and see the
hurt behind them and the disappointment on her face, for the first time in
my life, I wish I could take back the words.
I sigh and glance back at the road. We’d started out so well this
morning, and already, we’re fucking this up.
Introducing Camille to my sister and her family is something I never
intended on doing, ever. But I want to try and make amends for my actions
last night, and knowing how incredibly lonely my sister is, I figured
Camille and her could have some time together. She is my wife, after all.
A lump forms in my throat at the thought of this not going as planned. I
clear my throat and cast a glance in her direction. “Should we start again?” I
offer.
Her shoulders sag in relief, and her eyes spark with appreciation. “I’d
like that, thank you.” She smiles softly, and my heart races, and when she
places her hand on my thigh, my cock twitches in delight.
Turning into my sister’s estate, I know I’ve made the right decision
when I see her standing on the steps at the entrance to her home, a wide
smile gracing her face and my niece, Eleanor, bouncing on her hip. Her
husband, Shaw, stands behind her with a protective arm around her waist,
low on her stomach. I narrow my eyes in question.
Is she fucking pregnant again?
“What’s wrong?” Camille scans my face with concern as I put the car
into park.
I quickly mask my annoyance at the fact my sister appears to be
knocked up again and flash her an unusual smile.
 “Nothing. Let’s go.” I nod toward the door and exit the car, and as soon
as my feet touch the ground, a loud squeal of delight that makes my hairs
stand on end hits my eardrums.
“Fuck my life,” I grumble, and Camille stifles a giggle.
Her ass looks fucking incredible in her casual jeans, and her tits are
showcased in a tight white t-shirt. I can’t help but reach out and swat her
ass, earning a wince from her that makes my cock stir.
Jesus, I need her again.
I’m utterly addicted. It’s dangerous on every level.
But the Mafia is built on danger, and I just so happen to thrive on it.

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Chapter Thirty-Four

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

E mi breaks out into another conversation about baby Elle’s latest

antics. Luca has barely said a word, but something tells me this isn’t out of
the ordinary for him. Listening, watching, and waiting, a predator always
stalking his prey.
I had no reason to be worried Emi wouldn’t accept me. Something tells
me she doesn’t have many friends and this is why she’s so chatty.
“Shaw, I need to speak to you in my office.” Luca pushes back in his
chair without giving Shaw the option to continue eating. He sits with his
mouth open, about to take another forkful of food but widens his eyes
further when Luca snaps at him. I close my eyes at my husband’s blatant
ignorance. “Shaw!” he barks, startling Emi and me, and even Elle slinks
back in her highchair at his tone.
Shaw lowers his fork and rests back in his chair, crossing his arms over
his chest, and my heart hammers at his sign of disrespect. Emi’s eyes dart
from Shaw’s to Luca’s in panic.
“It’s my home, Luca. My office. My dinner. I’ll finish eating, then we
can discuss whatever favor you want from me when I’m ready.”
“Shaw,” Emi chastises.
Luca smirks, and the cunning action makes my blood thump rapidly.
“You either come now, or I’ll blow another hole in your disrespectful
fucking body.” His tone is low and deadly, his teeth gritting through each
word, and I know he’s speaking the truth. He wouldn’t care that he’s at a
family meal.
Shaw’s eyebrows shoot up. “You wouldn’t.”
He flicks his eyes toward Emi and Elle before landing them back on
Luca’s.
“Try me.” Luca grins back at him.
 My heart thumps faster while waiting for him to make his decision.
Shaw sighs, pushes back in his chair, and works his jaw from side to
side in defeat while Luca stares back at him with triumph in his dark eyes.
He looks like a deranged maniac.
Shaw slams the door behind him, leaving me and Emi alone for the first
time.
I chew my bottom lip, unsure of what to say or do as I wring my hands
in my lap.
“It’s okay, I don’t blame you.” My eyes snap up to her dark ones,
replicas of my husband’s.
I swallow thickly on emotion. “Thank you.”
“We shouldn’t be held accountable to the sins of our family.” I wince on
her words; I know she means well but, as usual, anything that implies my
brother has sins makes me angry and protective over him.
“Does my brother treat you well?” Her eyes are full of concern as she
studies me. I almost want to choke on her words. How can I answer that?
He hurts me, but in the best way possible. He’s possessive in a way that
feels protective, and he’s trying to be caring in a situation where he hates
me.
I raise my head and answer her truthfully. “I think he’s trying.”
Her shoulders relax. “Good. I worry about him.” I nod in understanding.
Of course she worries about him, she’s his sister. “I wish he’d leave the
feud behind.” Our eyes remain locked, and truth seeps from hers.
“Concentrate on the future.” She nods toward me, and I mirror her
action. “Too much blood has been shed, too much hurt on both sides.”
My heart stutters at her words. She’s the first person to ever
acknowledge the hurt caused to my family by the war, to me. By my
husband, no less.
Her hand finds mine, and she gives it a gentle squeeze, and my eyes fill
with emotion from her support. I open my mouth to thank her, but the door
bursts open, forcing both our eyes in the direction of Shaw storming into
the room with a blood-soaked shirt. I gasp in horror while Emi jumps to her
feet.
“Camille, we’re leaving. Come,” Luca calls from the doorway as Emi
rushes to inspect Shaw’s injury. Clearly, they’ve had some sort of dispute. I
rush to my feet without question, thanking Emi and Shaw for having us as I
make my way toward the front door, following my husband.

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 LUCA

I grind my jaw from side to side in frustration. Camille hasn’t spoken a

word to me since getting in the car, and annoyance rumbles inside me.
When Shaw insisted on being an arrogant prick, I put him in his place.
He may have purchased the property they reside at but only because I
allowed it.
“Are you okay?” Her soft voice cuts into my thoughts.
Casting my eyes in her direction, I give her a firm nod—I am now. Like
some sort of lovesick puppy seeking approval. “I don’t want to go home
yet,” I admit.
“Where do you want to go?”
My eyebrows furrow at my admittance. For the first time in my life, I
have no idea what I want. All I know is I want to be with her longer. “I
don’t know.”
“I can choose somewhere.” She sits forward eagerly, excitement taking
over her features.
“Not a fucking tiki bar,” I clip out, and she giggles in response, and my
lips turn up into a reluctant smile.
“I know the perfect place.”
I groan, wondering what the hell I just got myself into.
Camille takes another long lick of her ice cream as her hair blows in the
breeze, and I can’t help but stare at her as she gazes out at the sea.
We’re sitting on a bench in a small seaside town outside of New Jersey
where I’ve never been before.
In the little ice cream store, Camille was practically bouncing on the
balls of her feet, making me smirk at how childlike she became at the
thought of having ice cream.
“Your men stand out a mile here.” She glances around at my men
scattered amongst a handful of tourists.
“They do.” I smirk at my men dressed in suits, wearing earpieces, the
weapons bulging from their jackets but absent to the naked eye.
She takes another lick, then turns to face me. “Are you not enjoying
yours?” she questions, and I realize my ice cream is dripping onto the
ground.
I take a lick of the strawberry ice cream. “I can’t remember the last time
I had ice cream,” I admit. “Probably when I was a kid. It’s good.”
“Good?” she queries with her mouth open in mock horror. “It’s the best
ice cream there is. There’s like two stores in the whole US.”
I stare back at her. “Clearly it’s not the best. If it was the best, there’d be
more than two stores.” I deadpan back.
She sighs dramatically. “For your information, Mr. Smartass, some
Corporation tried to franchise them. But the owner wanted to keep his
business in his family, keep it small.”
I scoff. “Well, that’s a dumb business move. He’ll be missing out on
what could have been a lot of money.”
Her face turns serious. “Not everyone is driven by money, Luca. Some
people want a legacy for their families that’s not written in blood.”
 She stares back at the sea, and I watch her in stunned silence as I mull
over her words.
A legacy not written in blood. That’s not something possible in the
Mafia. Our legacies are just that, due to the blood we shed.
We quite literally take a blood oath.
Do I even want a legacy? One of my own? I always assumed I would
pass on my rights to a nephew when I had one.
But, for the first time in my life, as I sit staring out at the ocean with
Camille by my side, I wonder if a legacy of my own is something I could
achieve.
In blood we’re bound. In trust we live.

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Chapter Thirty-Five

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

I carry her sleeping form up the stairs and stop outside her bedroom door.
I don’t want her in there. I want her with me—she’s my fucking wife. First
thing tomorrow, Maria can move her stuff over to my room where it
belongs.
Using my elbow, I push down the handle to open my bedroom door and
place her in the center of the bed. She burrows into the sheets, lost against
the enormity of the bed with how small she is.
I take my time to undress her, taking in each and every freckle and
blemish on her soft skin. I slide her panties off with ease as her body
subconsciously lifts to assist me.
Raising her arms, I slide them out of her t-shirt and open the clasp at the
front of her bra, disposing them to the floor.
Then I step back and take in her body, now naked and bare for me to use
as I see fit. Mine.
I unbutton my shirt and kick off my shoes and socks, then unzip my
pants, all while keeping my eyes trained on my prize for being so quiet, so
slow. Excitement bubbles inside of me, and my cock leaks at the thought of
sliding into her unsuspecting body. I stroke it to ease the ache of
desperation, sliding my hand up and down my shaft, the veins of my cock
bulging under my touch.
Unable to wait any longer, I slip off my shirt and move up to the top of
my bed. I thread the fabric through the slats of the headboard, then gently
take a hold of her wrists. She writhes in her sleep, and I panic at the thought
of her waking before I get chance to fill her. “Shh, go to sleep, Camille.”
Her eyes flutter, then they relax as I tie her wrists to the headboard. She
fidgets slightly before stretching, allowing me the perfect opportunity to
climb over her. I rest my knees on either side of her head and stare down at
her. Fuck, she’s beautiful, and she’ll look even better stuffed with my cock.
I brush her hair from her neck so I can see my mark I burned into her
skin. Possession runs through my veins as I lift myself and angle my cock at
her mouth, then I drag the tip of my dripping cock over her lips, and she
mumbles incoherently against the sensitive head. I hiss through my teeth at
the exhilarating contact, then take hold of her jaw with my free hand and
press on it for her to open.
Her eyes flare wide in shock, and her mouth drops open as she struggles
to comprehend what’s happening. I slam inside her mouth so she chokes on
my length, and pleasure shoots down my spine and into my balls.
“Fuck, that’s it. Choke on my cock.”
My hands find the headboard as I withdraw, only to slam back into her
mouth feverishly. Her eyes bulge in panic, but I give her no time to breathe
before I slam into her again, hitting the back of her throat each and every
time. “That’s it, swallow that cock.” I push harder as she splutters in fear
and tugs on her restraints, and my cock stiffens even more under her
struggle.
“Fuck, that’s it.” Slam. The headboard hits the wall. Her eyes leak and
spittle flows down her mouth. “Choke on the fucker.” Slam. “Choke.” My
skin is slick with perspiration as the headboard continues knocking against
the wall due to the force of power behind my thrusts. I snap my hips back
and forth as I drive into her wet, sloppy mouth.
Her eyes are filled with tears as I grip her hair in one hand to force her
head back to allow me to slide down her throat. A groan of appreciation
rumbles from my chest. She moans at the contact, and the sound travels
through me, vibrating around my cock. Her eyes roll, as though she’s
enjoying this as much as me.
“Fucking whore,” I grit out. “My fucking whore.” I surge inside her one
more time before I growl in contempt as her throat forces my cock to swell.
My head drops forward to watch as I unload rope upon rope of my thick
cum inside her greedy mouth. My jaw drops open in admiration at the
beautiful mess of my wife while her eyes close in what appears to be
pleasure.
When my body sags above her, I reluctantly ease off her body, slipping
from her mouth. She gasps for air as I untie her hands.
Her arms fall to the pillow, and she rolls onto her knees, trying to catch
her breath, giving me the perfect opportunity to take in the marks on her
ass, courtesy of my belt. I settle behind her, and her glistening pussy begs
for me, even if she doesn’t know it yet. “Luca?” She turns her head to look
over her shoulder, and her eyes clash with mine.
“Mmm?” I muse while pushing two fingers into her pussy, relishing in
the wince of her body at the intrusion. I withdraw them, delighted to find
them coated in her essence, then I thrust them in harder, farther.
“Shit.” She grips the bed sheets.
I rub my cock over her pussy, annoyed when she tries to pull away, and
I tsk and pull her back by her hip while I use my other hand to position my
cock.
Her shoulders slump in acceptance, and she eases back on me, and I
revel in her pussy stretching around my thick cock. Sucking me in, I push
past her tight walls, practically purring at the sensation of her warmth
enveloping me.
The feeling is indescribable, and I hold myself still inside her,
determined to make it last when my cock is so eager to unload already.
“Luca? Can you touch me?” My eyes snap up to meet hers, her parted
lips still moist from my cum. Streaks of mascara coat her cheeks, and her
hair is a just-fucked mess. How the fuck can I refuse her?
My fingers delicately strum her clit, and she pushes her ass against me,
then moves forward to encourage me to withdraw. “I’m in control here.”
My fingers freeze, and I hold her hips still. “Do you understand me?”
 “Y-yess. I understand.”
“I’m fucking in control, not you, Camille.” My voice is dark as I grind
the words out, and she shudders beneath me. Fuck, I love it when she’s
scared and compliant.
“Now be a good fucking girl and accept what I give you.” I slap her ass
cheek, and she whimpers in pain. “Accept me.” I slam inside her, and she
jolts at the force behind the intrusion. My words meaning more than taking
my cock how I please. So much fucking more.
If only I could accept her too.
I close my eyes and allow it. As I pummel into her wet pussy, I accept
her. Every part of her, just like she accepts me.

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 CAMILLE

His words echo in my mind. “Accept me.” Doesn’t he see that I do accept
him? How can I not when the choice was taken from me? But even as I tell
myself this, I know it’s a lie.
I accept him.
Every inch of him.
A tear falls down my cheek at wishing he’d accept me too but knowing
he never will.

The sun glares through the crack in the curtains, and I wince as I move
toward Luca, only to realize his side of the bed is empty. I glance at the
nightstand and realize his watch is missing, so he’s no doubt left for work
already, and disappointment lingers inside me, but it’s soon forgotten as a
desperate need to throw up overcomes me. I drag the sheets off me and rush
to the bathroom, where I purge the contents of my stomach into the bowl.
I sit back on my heels and swipe my mouth, racking my brain over
trying to remember what I ate yesterday. Apart from a load of cum, there
wasn’t anything that wouldn’t sit well on my stomach. Deciding to shower
and freshen up, I put the creeping feeling of anxiety aside and run through
the day ahead in my head.

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Chapter Thirty-Six

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

I stumble toward the bathroom, tripping over the bed sheet wrapped
around my foot, and I wince when my shoulder hits the doorframe.
Bending quickly, I fill the toilet bowl for the third morning in a row.
“Camille, do you need a doctor?” Luca’s firm voice cuts through the air,
sending a wave of panic through me. I cast a look over my shoulder to find
him leaning against the doorframe with narrowed eyes, but his face is
etched in concern with a softness behind his usual stoic features.
I wipe my mouth with toilet paper and rise before flushing the contents.
“No, I ate some weird fish dish at work yesterday. It has to be that,” I lie.
The only thing I ate yesterday was dried toast because it was all I could
stomach. I was relieved when Luca informed me he wouldn’t be home for
dinner.
“Are you sure?” He stands behind me now, and in the bathroom mirror,
glares down at me with a look of concern, the darkness in his eyes shining
as if he knows I’m lying. I push his hand off my shoulder in an orchestrated
huff and step around him to lean over the counter and grab my toothbrush.
Then I fill the bristles with toothpaste and begin freshening up under his
watchful eye. He sighs, then spins me around to face him, and I freeze.
Then, without warning, with my toothbrush still in my mouth, he lifts me
onto the counter, stepping between my legs, and proceeds to take over
brushing my teeth for me.
“Luca?” I say when he bats my hand away and gently scrubs my teeth.
“Shh, spit.” He points at the sink, and I do as he tells me before he goes
back to brushing. I stare at him dumbfounded. “I’m taking care of you,
Camille.”
My heart hammers against my chest while his free hand brushes over
the branding on my neck.
 “I’m being a good husband.” I swallow the lump in my throat at his
words. Why do I feel like he’s hiding the words while I can from me? Why
does this feel so temporary? Why, when my heart finally swells with love,
do I have a ball of dread weighing down my stomach?
He points to the sink again, and this time, when I spit out the foam, his
hand tangles in my hair, forcing my mouth to his. My hands band around
his neck, drawing him closer. The toothbrush clangs against the sink as our
kiss becomes consuming, and his cock nudges at my pussy as he tugs me
closer to allow him to slide inside.
I take him in me on a low groan of acceptance, my body suddenly alive
at his touch. The flick of his fingers against my clit and the groan of
pleasure vibrating from his mouth when he latches onto my nipple makes
every part of my body putty in his talented hands.
“Fuck, so good.” He surges inside, a hand squeezing my breast and the
palm of his other hand resting on the mirror behind me to stabilize us. I
scrape my nails down his spine and then up into his hair, tugging wildly on
his strands while pulling his mouth closer to mine. Our tongues thrash
against one another’s while his hips pump at a rapid pace. I widen my legs
to accommodate his thick cock. He moves my ankles to the counter, open
and exposed, and his eyes flick back and forth to watch me stretch. I move
my hand to grasp his cock entering me, and our eyes lock with equal
arousal. “Play with yourself, play with my cock while I fill you,” he pants,
and I moan as my fingers find my swollen clit.
I swirl my fingers around myself, pressing harder with each thrust of his
hips, then I move my other hand to his balls, tugging them gently. He
tenses, and his cock twitches inside me. “Fuck, do it again,” he pants as he
watches me play with myself while massaging his balls.
“Fuck, you’ve no”—slam—“fucking”—slam—“idea.” Slam.
My mouth falls open as my orgasm approaches. “Luca,” I pant
wantonly.
 “Slap your clit. Fucking slap it!”
I do as he commands, slapping my hand against my clit, harder the
second time, then my pussy clenches and his cock swells. He bites into his
cheek. “Fuck.”
His cock expands, filling me with his release, his cum dripping from me
a sign of the amount he filled me with.
Luca’s head falls into the crook of my neck, and I hold him there as he
places a gentle kiss on his brand.
“Mine,” he growls.

I shut down the computer and put the papers I’ve been working on into the
file on my desk, relieved for today to finally be over. I spent the morning
throwing up again and the afternoon trying to force food down my throat.
When Holly suggested I see a doctor, my mind went into overdrive. Maybe
I can call the pharmacy on the way home, at least to settle my stomach.
I glance down at my phone and see a message from Luca, telling me
Enzo and Maxim are joining us for dinner tonight. I should be happy my
husband is informing me we have guests, but truth be told, this is his way of
telling me to be home on time and I won’t be missing the meal. Great,
pharmacy it is.
I climb out of the SUV, and annoyance rumbles through me at Paulo
following me inside. “I can go in alone,” I snap.
Of course he ignores me, instructed to do so by Luca, no doubt. Paulo
scans the room before taking a step back and stands by the door, his eyes
trained on me like a watchdog, no doubt reporting my every move back to
Luca.
I have no privacy at all. I hoist my purse up on my shoulder and march
down the aisle toward the counter. My eyes latch onto the pregnancy tests
on the last shelf, and my stomach plummets at the thought.
Since being given the contraceptive injection, I’ve not had a period at
all. I considered searching the web to see if it was normal but decided
against it, knowing my movements are watched, so I pushed the thought to
the back of my mind. It continues to send a sliver of unease through me,
because, what if . . .
“Can I help you?” the pharmacist asks, drawing me from my thoughts. I
glance over my shoulder to Paulo’s eyes locked onto me. Great.
I lower my voice. “I wondered if you could give me something for
sickness. I haven’t been able to eat properly in a few days, and I’m
struggling to keep everything down.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
I clench my teeth. I wouldn’t be here if I’d seen a doctor. “I’m fine now.
I just need something to settle my stomach so I can eat again.”
The pharmacist moves away from the counter, going through a side
door. I gnaw on my lip, anxiety creeping in as I gaze at the pregnancy tests,
then back up at Paulo. My cheeks redden under his scrutiny, as though he
can see inside my mind and pick apart every thought and action.
We’ve been having sex protected, the doctor assured him of that.
But then my mind flicks back to our wedding night, how he split a
condom. Did he not put the fresh one on properly?
“Here we go.” I jump at the pharmacist’s voice. “Take one a day for five
days and see a doctor if you still have persistent issues.” I nod as I side-eye
the tests. Retrieving my card from my purse, I use Luca’s card for the first
time since our marriage.
Slipping the pills and card back into my purse, I sway unsteadily on my
feet, forcing me to grip the counter for stability. Both my body and mind
need grounding. I turn my head away from the glaring tests, and my eyes
latch onto the restroom. I make a beeline for it, feeling Paulo’s eyes drilling
holes into the back of my head as I do.
 I slam the door behind me and rest my head against the wood. Shit.
What the hell am I going to do?
Maybe I can sneak out and grab a test without him noticing. I turn and
open the door, sneaking a peek to find him glaring in my direction, and I
shut the door quickly.
“You could just let me grab you one?”
A young woman in cutoff jean shorts and a lace camisole smiles at me,
and I realize I’d spoken aloud. My cheeks pinken in embarrassment, and
she gives a dramatic sigh, throws her purse onto the counter, and pulls her
bank card from her ass cheek. “Gimme a minute.”
I shuffle away from the door, allowing her to slink past me.
Every second feels like an hour as I pace back and forth while expecting
her to burst through the door. I chew on the skin beside my nail and jump
when the door opens to the young woman happily waving a pregnancy test
at me. “Here you go.” She hands it over to me. My fingers tremble as I take
it from her, and concern flashes in her eyes. “I’ll wait here.” She points to
the floor. My lip quivers in gratitude, and she strokes my arm in
reassurance. “Go on. Something tells me you don’t want the muscle coming
in here, huh?”
My throat goes dry at the thought, so I nod and rush off to the cubicle,
unpacking the box and skimming over the instructions. I sit down on the
toilet to pee, placing the test beneath the stream.
“My name’s Jasmine. What’s yours?”
I almost want to choke at how ironic it is that the first friend I’ve made
outside of work happens to be in a restroom while I pee on a stick.
“Camille.”
“Camille,” she repeats mulling it over. “Sounds expensive.”
I choke on a cough. “It is.”
“Mm, thought so.”
 I finish my business and flush the toilet, exiting the cubicle, and
Jasmine jumps off the counter to her feet.
I wash my hands as I rest the stick on the counter. “How long do you
have to wait?”
“About two more minutes.”
She nods at my words, but her face falls when she glances down at the
test. “I don’t think it’s the result you want.”
Her words take a minute to register, but when I look down at the test
and see the word pregnant glaring back at me, I feel like my world is
crumbling. My head swirls and my stomach flips.
A bang on the door makes my spine bolt straight as I jump back in
horror. “Camille, what are you doing in there?”
Jasmine shoves the test into her purse and rushes toward the door, only
opening it slightly to poke her head out. “Do you mind, the poor woman is
on her period. Can you go and be useful and grab her some pads?”
My eyes bulge at her words. If I wasn’t having an internal meltdown,
I’d be amused while imagining the horror on Paulo’s face at the thought of
doing any of that.
“Ya know what. Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort her out. Just give us a
little privacy, yeah?”
“Of course,” Paulo grunts, and my shoulders drop in relief.
Jasmine turns to face me. “Always freaks men out when they think they
have to deal with periods.” She rolls her eyes with a grin on her face.
Her face softens as she scans my face. “Look, I can see you’re in
trouble, I could help?” She shrugs.
I shake my head, not wanting to risk harm coming to anyone; I’d never
live with myself if she was to get hurt for helping me.
She holds up her hand. “Seriously, I know people, Camille. I’m part of
an MC. We don’t scare easy.” My eyes widen, and I look her over again,
this time taking in her tattoos and confident persona. I can see her fitting
into an MC perfectly.
“Here.” She opens her purse and takes out a phone. “It’s a burner. Take
it. My number is in there. If you need help, use it.”
My lip trembles as I accept the phone from her, stuffing it into my purse
as I try to compose myself with the knowledge of being pregnant with my
enemy’s baby.
“Thank you, Jasmine.” She hugs me, but I remain motionless, not used
to the contact, and she pulls back and scans my body.
“Maybe your man will be pleased, huh?” She shrugs.
I gift her the perfected smile and witness the flash of sympathy in her
eyes, as if knowing I’m faking it. “I’m sure he will.”
I straighten my shoulders and take a deep breath as I exit the restroom
with my game face firmly in place, but my heart crumbles because I know
without a shadow of a doubt Luca will not be pleased. He’ll be absolutely
livid.

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Chapter Thirty-Seven

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

I take a deep breath as I step into the foyer of our home, and laughter fills
the empty space, echoing off the walls like white noise humming through
the plaster and into my soul. It’s eerie, as though laughing at the
predicament I’m currently in.
My breathing escalates, and my blood runs cold under the callous
sound.
“You seem to be real fucking cozy with the enemy just lately,” Maxim
rings out, freezing me to the spot.
I step closer to the office and, staying close to the wall in the shadows, I
listen in to their conversation intently.
“Keep your loved ones close and your enemies closer,” Luca counters,
and my heart plummets at his words, tears well in my eyes.
Maxim scoffs. “You moved her into your bed. You don’t get much
fucking closer. What’s next, knock her up and tell her you love her?”
Silence hangs in the air, and my body goes rigid with shock. Does he
know?
“You think I’d fall in love with that? The poison in her body. Her sick
fuck of a brother fucking raped my sister, Maxim. You think I’d ever knock
her up? Over my dead fucking body will I let our blood mingle. Lorenzo
can go fuck himself. I won’t allow that to happen.” My body floats as their
conversation continues, my mind panicking and my heart breaking.
Luca sighs. “Don’t fucking question me again. Brother or no brother.
I’ll put a bullet in you.” A chair scrapes against the floor, and I dart toward
the stairs.
“She was my sister too!” Maxim snipes back, and the door opens as I
reach the landing to the bedrooms.
 I rush inside my bedroom and head straight to the bed, hiding beneath
the covers as their laughs ring out on replay in my mind.
My bedroom door creaks open, and I freeze as the bed dips beside me.
His hand grazes my forehead. “Paulo told me you asked the pharmacist
for medication. Are you okay?” Of course he fucking did. I want to scoff but
refrain from it.
Instead, I turn to face him, my heart thumping in my chest as I try my
best to mask my emotions. “Yes. She said I would be fine in a few days.”
His eyes flick over my face, as though searching for a sign of deceit,
and as if happy he’s found none, he stands.
“Good, the O’Connell wedding is in two days.”
I nod.
“I’ll get Maria to bring you dinner up.” I open my mouth to argue, but
he holds his hand up to stop me. “You’ll eat, and I want you in my room,
Camille.” With that, he turns on his heel and leaves the room.
The moment the door clicks shut, uncontrollable sobs rack through my
body, and my heart shatters into a billion pieces, never to be whole again.
I need a plan.
An escape plan.

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 LUCA

I turn over in bed, tugging her toward me, and I lift her leg over my waist.
She’s different, like something has happened these past couple of days, and
I don’t like it. I don’t like being shut out and not in control. We haven’t
fucked for a few days, and although my cock is desperate for her touch, my
mind craves her heart more.
She’s clearly not well, although Maria told me she’s eating again, so she
must be coming to the end of whatever illness took over her. Lucky for her,
as I’d arranged for an eating disorder specialist to fly in before we leave for
the wedding tomorrow, so Enzo canceled it for me. Perhaps they should
come and check her over just to be sure?
“What are you thinking?” I ask into the darkness. Her body stills on
mine, and her breathing escalates, giving away what I already knew—she
isn’t asleep as she pretends to be.
“I was thinking about the wedding,” she lies, and anger races inside me,
and the need to punish her skyrockets. I flip her onto her back, holding her
arms above her head, and her glazed eyes lock onto mine. My hard cock
begs for release between us.
Her chest heaves, but my need for her takes over whatever is going on
with her right now.
 One hand finds her throat as the other pulls my leaking cock from my
boxers in a hurry.
A single tear falls down her cheek. “Luca,” she whispers, and I pause to
stare down at her.
I ignore it, desperate and hungry for her, so I stroke my cock through
her pussy folds. Pulling back to surge forward, her lip quivers. “No.”
One word sends my soul plummeting to depths I never imagined, my
heart freefalling and my blood runs cold. “No.”
I still, staring down at her paled face as she turns her head away from
me. My cock softens, and silence draws out between us; I don’t know what
to say or do. What I do know is I don’t want her to hate me; the thought
repulses me.
Does she see me as a monster, after all? Does she see me like him?
I move off her, grab my pants from the floor, and head toward the door.
“Luca?” Her soft, vulnerable voice leaves me no choice but to turn my head
to the side. She looks like a fucking angel sitting up in bed with the sheet
draped over her, the black sheet a contrast to her innocence, my darkness
encompassing her light.
“Thank you,” she breathes out like a whisper, and my throat clogs on
the fact my wife is thanking me for not having sex with her. I close my eyes
as a tsunami of emotions surge through me, but above all, I’m angry with
myself for allowing her the power to possess me. I give her a firm nod
without facing her fully and throw open the door with an overwhelming
need to free the demon growing inside me, and if I can’t take out my control
through sex, I can at least take it out through torture.

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Chapter Thirty-Eight

OceanofPDF.com
Camille

T he drive to the airstrip is silent. I hadn’t seen Luca since he walked

out my bedroom door last night, and now he sits stoically still, staring out
of the passenger window in the front of the SUV like he’s trying his best to
stay as far away from me as possible.
When we come to a stop and the aircraft is in view, I wait for the door
to be opened before stepping out, only to find Luca already walking up the
airplane steps, not even glancing in my direction. It pisses me off.
Paulo leads me to the steps, and when I see the air stewardess smiling at
Luca, anger fills my veins when he gifts her a smile right back. I clamp my
mouth closed and enter the aircraft to find her pouring him a drink as he sits
smiling at her in the plush leather chair, not even acknowledging me.
I take the seat on the opposite side of the aisle and said bimbo lingers
above me. “Would you like a drink?” I glance up and take her in: blonde
hair, red lipstick, and narrow waist, and I almost cringe at the appearance,
so like the woman flirting in our house. Luca has a type, and it’s nothing
like me.
My cheeks heat at the realization, and I feel Luca’s glare searing into
me. I clear my throat. “I’ll have a water, thank you.” She turns and walks
away without so much as a smile.
“Have you eaten today?”
My head turns in his direction, prepared to snap at him for this
ridiculous obsession with my eating, but when I see his face etched in
concern, all anger fades in an instant.
“I had breakfast.”
He scans my face, and as if realizing the truth behind my words, his
shoulders sag and his face relaxes. “Good.” He gives me a swift nod before
turning to face the window, effectively blocking me out again.
 Bimbo thrusts a bottle of water in my hand, and I bite out a “Thank
you.” I settle into the chair while going over my plans, telling myself I’ve
no choice.
In blood we’re bound. In trust we live.

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 LUCA

The flight seems to be taking forever, when in reality, we should arrive

within the hour before we’re whisked away to some lavish mountain resort
for the weekend, courtesy of the O’Connell family.
I take another swig of my scotch and relax back into my chair; all my
senses are on high alert where Camille is concerned. Her scent fills my
nostrils, and every movement fills my mind, intensifying my insatiable need
for her.
The air stewardess on the ridiculous high heels struts down the aisle
with her eyes latched on me. I’m sure at some point I’ve probably fucked
her, but I sure as hell don’t remember it, and the way she moves toward me,
it’s clear she has one goal in mind. Me.
She pushes her chest out as she bends to fill my glass without needing
to ask her, then she drags her tongue over her lip while holding my gaze.
My dick doesn’t so much as twitch at the open invitation, but my blood
does simmer at her disrespect toward my wife. “Leave,” I grind out, making
her jump. My hands curl into fists, and I work my jaw as she scurries away,
then glance at my wife. Her eyes are full of hurt but something else too—
need. They’re full of need, and in that split second, I take her need and grab
it while I can, making it my own.
 “Come.” I point to the floor between my legs, and indecision flashes
over her face. For a moment, I think she’s going to reject me, and my heart
hammers at the thought.
But when she rises from her seat and walks in my direction, my cock
finally stirs as I take in every inch of my edible wife.
She wears an elegant flowing skirt to her ankles and a white sheer
blouse tucked in at the waist. Her nipples are peaking through the fabric,
and it makes my cock pulsate in my pants.
I swallow past the lump of need in my throat when she falls to her knees
without needing instruction, my cock now solid as her bright blue eyes
shine with submission, awaiting my request.
“Take me out.” My voice is gritty, raw, and laced in desire. I sit back
and widen my legs, giving her access to unbuckle me and pull my solid
cock from its constraints.
I groan through my teeth at the contact of her soft skin against mine; it’s
been too long. Too long without her touch, my release, and I fucking crave
it.
She pumps me up and down, and I allow her, enjoying her
reacquaintance when she rolls my balls in the palm of her hand, and I
clench to stop myself from embarrassment.
“Suck me.” My gravelly voice fills the cabin.
Her eyes latch onto mine as she opens her mouth and moves the head of
my sticky cock toward it. My fingers itch to force her head against me,
make her take all of me and fast, but I restrain myself and allow her to toy
with me, because when I toy with her, she’ll fucking know about it.
“Camille,” I warn when she peppers kisses up my cock and flicks her
tongue over the tip. “Fucking suck it.” My hips thrust up in desperation.
The little minx smiles, and my restraint is gone, obliterated. I grab the
back of her hair and push her head down against my groin. Exhaling with
satisfaction when she chokes around my length, feeling her hot, wet mouth
dripping around my cock is fucking exhilarating.
I hold her head in place, and her breath fanning over me only adds to
my triumph. “Fuck, that’s it.” I thrust into her, willing myself to last.
“Choke on my cock.” Thrust. “My good little wife.” Thrust. “Such a good
fucking whore.” Thrust. “Fucking choke.”
Movement catches my eye, so I turn to the air stewardess standing in
the doorway frozen with a tray in her hand along with a fresh bottle of
scotch. Her eyes meet mine, and I smirk at her, silently telling her this is
how you suck cock and make a man remember it.
I crook my finger for her to bring me the drink, and her eyes widen in
shock, but she does as I ask. The ass in me smiles internally at her reddened
cheeks.
I tug Camille from my cock by her hair and revel in her reddened, tear-
streaked face as she gasps for air, unaware of the bystander as she sucks in
sharp breaths. Her swollen lips make me want to bite into them, bruise them
permanently with my mark. At the reminder of my mark, I tug her blouse
from her shoulder and move her hair aside, allowing my brand to be
exposed. I caress the scarred tissue as Camille’s breathing regulates, then
her eyes snap to the side, and her body stiffens at realizing we’re not alone.
I smirk down at her, loving how her face goes angry beneath my touch.
“Give me the bottle.” I hold my hand out for the air stewardess to place
the scotch in, refusing to acknowledge her presence, and my eyes remain
locked on Camille’s.
She watches in rapture as I trickle the scotch over the tip of my cock,
and I jolt at the sensation as it drips down my length and onto my balls.
I entwine my hand in my wife’s hair once again. “You’re going to show
her how a Mafia wife services her husband. How nobody else can serve him
like she does.” Her eyes glint with arousal but also determination, and my
cock spurts with pre-cum.
 She takes me in hand, guiding me to her mouth where she languorously
licks me from root to tip. “Fuck, that’s good.” My ass comes off the seat at
how fucking good my wife’s tongue is, lavishing over my cock like it’s her
prized possession.
“Fuck,” I pant out when she pushes her tongue into my slit and wraps
her swollen lips around the head, smothering it with attention. Her tongue
darts in every direction, and when she moans, the vibrations send shooting
pleasure to my balls.
“Fuck, I want to come.” I grind my teeth in annoyance. “Lick me
again.” I breathe out, hoping to prolong my orgasm. “Lick me clean, my
little Mafia whore.” My fingers tangle in her hair, caressing her as she
slurps my cock. I praise my wife for the best fucking blow job of my entire
life. “Only a good Mafia wife can please her man like this.” Her eyes meet
mine, and they swim with desire. “Such a good wife, show them how it’s
done.”
Her mouth works faster as she forces me down her throat. “Fuck.”
Thrust. “Fuck, that’s it.” One hand grips the chair as I surge up into her
open mouth while the other holds her head in place, allowing me to use her
throat for my pleasure. “Jesus.”
I thrust harder while moving my hand from the chair to take a hold of
her throat, squeezing my palm around it to feel my hard length deep inside
her.
“Fucking, Jesus, yes.”
My balls tighten to the point of pain, my slit widens, and my cum shoots
down her throat, and I jerk from the force behind it.
My wife swallows, taking all my pleasure with her, and I couldn’t be
prouder. “Such a good Mafia wife,” I croon, moving the hair from her face
as I withdraw my spent cock. “Mmm, fuck.” She continues to lick me clean
as I sit back in my chair and take a swig from the bottle.
 The gasp from beside me reminds me of the air stewardess’s presence,
and my eyes dart in her direction. I slowly withdraw my gun from inside
my holster and can’t help the menacing chuckle escaping me when the
woman stumbles back, almost falling over Camille’s seat. “Disrespect my
wife again and I’ll put a bullet in your head.” Her eyes fill with tears as her
panicked face flicks around the cabin, searching for reassurance.
“Understand?”
“Y-y-yes.”
I nod toward the door. “Leave.” Her feet move quickly, leaving me with
my wife once again.
Camille rests her head on my thigh, and my fingers involuntarily find
her cheek, stroking her face as our eyes remain locked like we’re the only
two people in the world.

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 CAMILLE

His fingers trail up and down my skin almost lovingly, if I didn’t know any
different, of course. Goose bumps trail down my body at his touch, and my
heart whimpers at his tenderness, pleading with him to remain the man I
know he can be.
“You’ll always hate me, won’t you?” I hadn’t meant to ask it; I was
simply thinking out loud, but when he takes a sharp breath and his lips
move but nothing comes out, I know I fucked up. But I need to hear him
say the words, to give me the reassurance of what’s to come tomorrow,
when everything changes. When our worlds no longer collide but take a
different path. One not bathed in a passion of vengeance or hate. But one
carved out of love, truth, and longing.
The right path, the one that will finally set me free.
“You’re the enemy.” His words come out stilted and robotic like a
rehearsed statement. A reluctant but true statement.
I simply nod in response and rest my head back on his thigh with all the
reassurance I need but never wanted.
Not when I’ve fallen in love with a man that can only hate.
Not when poison runs through his veins thicker than the love he refuses
to crave.
 In blood we’re bound, in trust we live. Maybe so, but what about when
we don’t trust the blood that binds us?
Love is stronger than any blood bond or oath. It can define who we trust
and how we live.
And tomorrow, everything will change because of the love I feel for our
baby, and nothing will stop me.
Not even him.

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Chapter Thirty-Nine

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

T he hotel is magnificent. I’ll give the O’Connell family their dues. It’s
lavish and has breathtaking views from floor-to-ceiling glass windows
overlooking a ravine.
Our main security traveled ahead, and we were shown to our room by
Enzo, who will be joining us at the service tomorrow. He has a room
adjacent to ours but is currently propping up the bar in my living space.
“You okay?” he asks, and I turn away from the window to meet his
skeptical eyes.
“Of course, why ask?”
He nods toward the bedroom door where Camille is showering for the
evening meal. “Camille . . .”
My eyes narrow, and my spine bolts straight in defense. “What about
her?”
“I don’t know.” He exhales and locks eyes with me before continuing.
“She’s looking at you different.”
I swallow back the emotion this brings because I’m certain she has
feelings for me, feelings I have no intention of reciprocating, no matter how
much I long to.
I stroke a finger over my chin, mulling over his words.
“You think we should lay off the Riccis? Lorenzo is going to question
the manpower we use soon enough.” He shrugs.
Anger floods my veins at his suggestion. Lay off the Riccis? What, for
them to fuck us over? Not a fucking prayer.
“The stakeouts continue,” I snipe out, my voice deadly.
Enzo sighs, as though pissed with my response, but of course he doesn’t
voice it. He wouldn’t dare.
 “Have you ever considered this is all part of their plan? Use her to lower
our defenses.”
Enzo scoffs at my suggestion. “Now you sound like Maxim.”
“Maybe he has more loyalty,” I snipe back but regret the words when
Enzo’s face falls.
His throat works and he glances away. “Doubtful.”
I nod in agreement, knowing I fucked up. There’s no one as loyal as
Enzo, and I shouldn’t have lashed out.
But I refuse to acknowledge it, like many of my sins, it seems. I refuse
to acknowledge them at all.
“I best go and get ready, apparently there’s a fucking circus of some sort
out back.” Enzo points over my shoulder at the window, scoffing in disgust.
Black screens have been placed around the grounds outside so we can’t
see what’s happening beyond the patio area. Prying eyes kept out for some
elaborate reveal, no doubt.
“We won’t be joining you. I’m taking Camille to dinner.” I straighten
my shirt sleeves and ignore his glowering I-told-you-so grin, which makes
him chuckle obnoxiously as he leaves.
“Catch you two love birds tomorrow.” He makes dumb kissy faces, and
I draw my gun, but he’s out the door before I have a chance to use it.
Turning back to take in the view, I register the effort that Con
O’Connell has gone to for his wife in comparison to our wedding day, in
which it felt like my world was coming to a fucking end.
The man has gone all out for the woman he loves, and it makes a
glimmer of guilt rear its ugly head, but instead of dealing with it, I bury it
inside. I let my darkness consume it and destroy the parts of me that make
me weak.
Including her.

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 CAMILLE

I washed away my sins in the shower, scrubbed myself clean of the guilt I’ll
be leaving in my wake. My mind needs to stay on target, on what’s
important. On my future, our future, and one day, I’ll have someone in my
life that loves me for being me. Someone that will see beyond my name, my
blood, and the sins of others.
I finish applying the lipstick and rub my lips together. I stare back at the
woman in the mirror. How differently things have turned out to how I
wished they could be.
A knock on the door startles me. “Camille, we’re going to be late.”
I take a deep breath, lift my chin, and turn to open the door.
Luca’s dark eyes meet mine. He sits on the bed with his legs open,
leaning on his elbows, and his phone is forgotten in his hand as his gaze
travels over my body, warming me from the inside out and lighting a fire of
desire through me. Wetness pools in my panties as he eats me up on the spot
with arousal swimming in his darkened orbs, and they dance with a promise
of pleasure. When his tongue darts out over his lip, I throb with an intense
need to feel him. Touch him.
He swallows audibly, then clears his throat before standing.
The air is thick with something indescribable, a tension so palpable I
feel that something between us could snap at any second.
 His hand brushes my hair from my shoulder, exposing his mark. Our
eyes remain locked as I silently beg him to kiss me. My breath hitches as
his hand moves to my neck, adding a slight pressure to my throat. When he
ducks his face, I close my eyes, expecting the softness of his lips and the
ravishing of his tongue, but instead, his breath brushes against my ear. “I
can’t wait to fuck you senseless, to have you begging for my cock to stretch
your little pussy for me to fill you.” A needy moan leaves my lips as he
brings his to the burn mark and gifts it with a gentle kiss. “Would you like
that? Your cunt dripping with my cum?”
I can’t respond. I’m rendered speechless under his dominant yet gentle
touch, his filthy words igniting the embers simmering inside me. “Is your
pussy wet, Camille?” he whispers against my skin. “Tell me.”
The grip to my neck becomes firm, giving me no choice but to respond.
“Very.”
He lets out a growl of satisfaction before releasing my throat and
drawing his lips against my neck. “Good girl.”
My body is like putty, begging to be crafted to his need, eager to please
and desperate to manipulate all for his satisfaction.
Because if Luca Varros is in ecstasy, then I’m in a constant state of
need.
He severs eye contact, pulls back, straightens his shirt, and adjusts his
obvious bulge. Just like that, he’s back.
“Come, you know that I don’t like to be late.”
His veil firmly in place.
Now I need mine to be too.

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Chapter Forty

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

S he’s stunning, absolutely fucking stunning.

I’m torn between creating a damn blood bath with every eye she turns
or giving her my attention and lapping up the fact that she’s mine.
Each time her hair falls to cover her mark, I place it back over her
shoulder.
White noise takes place in the restaurant, and I don’t so much as pay
anyone attention but her. My eyes fixed firmly on my wife. Mine.
She breathes out and places her fork on the plate, and my eyebrows
furrow. “Luca, you’ve barely touched a thing.” She gestures toward my
plate where my meal remains untouched.
I lean over the table so other diners can’t hear. “Maybe all I want to eat
is your pussy. Knowing it’s wet and begging me to fill.” I lick my lips
before continuing. “My mouth waters for it, Camille.”
Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of red, and she glances around the room
to make sure nobody heard me before picking up her fork and eating as
though I didn’t just tell her I want to eat her out. Desperately.
My jaw tics in annoyance as I sit back in my chair. I turn my head from
side to side, analyzing my wife while she avoids eye contact.
The tension in the bedroom was fucking off the charts, but now it’s like
a veil has been slipped in place and she refuses to acknowledge it. To
acknowledge me.
My mind works a mile a minute, desperate to get us back on track.
Eager to please her.
“You look beautiful,” I admit, then wince at what a dumb sap I sound
like, a fucking pussy.
Her fork stops halfway to her open mouth as her eyes return to mine.
Her throat works, and her eyes fill with an emotion I can’t describe.
 “Thank you,” she breathes out, and my heart races with a need to please
her again.
Suddenly, I want to give her every-fucking-thing and more.
All of me, for one fucking night, I want her, Camille Varros, my fucking
wife, to want me.
“I need you,” she whimpers, and all restraint I had snaps in a single
second as I stand from the table and offer her my hand. She slips into mine
perfectly, like she was always meant to be. We stride toward the exit with
determination, and for the first time since our wedding, I want all the world
to see I’m married to Camille Varros, that she belongs to me.

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 CAMILLE

We remain silent as the elevator ascends, staring at the doors with our
fingers entwined. An air of desperation hangs between us, simmering
passion ready to ignite into pleasure.
The doors open as Luca leads us out and down the guarded corridor
toward our room. He swipes the key and bypasses the living space, heading
straight into the bedroom.
As soon as we enter, he spins me to face him. My body collides with
his, and my hand grips onto his chest for stability.
He leans down to kiss me, and I expect it to be feverish, and it’s
everything but. It’s gentle and slow, and our tongues meet with a loving
caress, a tenderness I never knew existed inside him, a promise of more. I
squeeze my eyes closed at the thought, the pain rendering my capacity to
breathe.
His hands trail delicately down my spine, taking the zipper of my dress
with them. He pushes the straps off my shoulders, and it falls to the floor.
He steps back, and a low growl of appreciation leaves his throat as his gaze
rakes over me, landing on my peaked nipples, leaving a tsunami of goose
bumps to scatter over my bare breasts. I left my panties off knowing it
would drive him wild. Did I want him to rage at me? To unleash and punish
me one last time?
 He rolls his lip between his teeth as his eyes devour me and his chest
heaves. His fingers flinch, as though he’s eager to touch me—mark me,
maybe?
“You’ve no idea, how fucking gorgeous you are, do you?”
I shake my head, and my hair drapes over my chest, covering my
breasts. A growl of possession leaves him. “Turn,” he snaps, as though he’s
lost all restraint.
I turn, gifting him the perfect view of my ass. “Touch your toes.” The
darkened edge to his voice is sinister but only adds to my heightened
arousal, my need to please and be punished a heady combination.
I bend slowly, relishing in his deep inhale.
Firm hands grip my hips as he rocks his hardened cock in the crook of
my bare ass, open and exposed for him.
“I love seeing my marks on you, Camille.” My heart hammers at his
admission. He grinds against me. “I can smell your needy pussy, dripping
with pleasure for my touch. Such a desperate little whore for me.” I moan at
his words, and he chuckles. The warmth and weight of his body pressing
into me makes me shudder. “I’m going to worship you tonight. You won’t
forget a single thing about it. It’ll be so engrained in your mind it’ll haunt
you for eternity.”
My body stiffens, and my heart skips a beat as panic sets in.
Does he know?
How could he possibly?
He can’t.
His tongue drags over my spine before stopping at my ass. “Get on the
bed, Camille.”
My mind falters as I climb onto the bed and watch as he undresses.
Lying down, I open myself up to him, determined to make this a night
to remember and put all feelings of trepidation aside. I’ll enjoy tonight. I’ll
make this a night for Luca to remember too.
For an eternity.

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 LUCA

I pump my cock, and pre-cum leaks from the tip, wetting my palm. The
lubrication adds to my insatiable need for her.
Her glistening cunt is on display for me as she strums over her swollen
clit. Our heavy eyes remain locked as I kneel on the bed, dipping my head
to inhale the scent of my woman’s pussy as she swirls her fingers through
her arousal.
I swipe the pre-cum from my cock and mix it with her arousal as our
fingers work together to create the perfect concoction of intimate pleasure.
Her hips lift as a breathy moan spills from her parted lips. “Luca.” I bend
and kiss her fingers, licking over them as she works herself. “Mmm,” she
pants as I flick my tongue over the tips of her fingers. “More,” she begs as I
open her folds, creating a V with my fingers. I nuzzle against her, peppering
kisses on her delicate flesh before lavishing my tongue over her needy clit.
“Mmm, please.” My cock jumps with each moan, each thrust of her eager
body.
I close my eyes at her taste, the euphoric sensation of her pleasure and
mine, and a growl is ripped from my chest when I thrust two fingers into
her tight pussy. She clenches as her body tenses, her mouth parts, and she
throws her head back. “Ah, oh god.”
 I ram my cock into the mattress, desperate for some relief as I thrash my
tongue over the tender bundle of nerves and lap up her orgasm. She reaches
out to touch me but freezes with uncertainty, I give her a nod in reassurance,
and she grips my hair as she rides the wave of her pleasure against my face.
“Fuck.” I rub myself into the mattress.
I glance up at her delectable body, taut with exhilaration and consumed
with ecstasy.
Withdrawing my fingers from her clenched pussy, I crawl over her.
Her hand meets my jaw, and without warning, her tongue swipes over
her wetness, making me groan in bliss. “Do you like the taste of your cum
on my mouth, Camille?”
I stare down at her, her eyes alight with passion. “Yes,” she breathes as I
position my cock at her needy pussy. Her hips lift in encouragement,
allowing me to slide inside her warmth. She embraces me, almost
unbearably tight due to her heightened arousal.
“Fuck,” I groan against her neck, kissing her mark with compassion.
“Mmm.” She bucks up into me, but I refuse to be rushed. I refuse to
come as soon as I enter her. I want tonight to last forever.
Moving onto an elbow, I lift her leg over my waist, allowing me to slide
in deeper. Then I glide my hand over her soft skin and up to her heavy tits,
gifting one with a gentleness unlike me. I sink inside her to the hilt and
withdraw while my mouth finds her soft nipple.
Instead of tugging and biting and slamming into her, I take my time. I
mirror her tenderness. Our eyes lock as my tongue caresses the peak of her
nipple, gifting it with a kiss of affection when her hand finds my hair. My
eyes roll when she tugs and presses my head against her breast, but I refuse
to allow her to control me. Not tonight, tonight I want different.
I want more.
I roll my hips, earning a wave of arousal to flow from her. Wetness
pools between us, and I groan in satisfaction as my hips pick up speed.
 “Please, Luca.”
My balls draw up, so I snap my hips back and forth. “Fuck,” I growl as
my body freefalls toward my orgasm.
I drop onto both elbows beside her head, our eyes connecting as a surge
of pleasure slams into me. Her pussy clenches around me so tight it forces
my cock to swell. Our mouths fall open at the force of our orgasms, and I
rock into her again as my cum shoots deep inside her so powerfully I’m
rendered speechless. My body vibrates with the strength behind my orgasm
as hers tenses, and her nails dig into my shoulders as she takes every drop
of my forceful cum with eagerness.
Our chests heave as our bodies fall lax. But our eyes stay connected.
Our gazes locked, the force between them so strong it’s almost
magnetic.
“Luca,” she breathes out, gliding her fingers over my jaw, and I shudder
under her touch.
I lick my lips. This is it. This is the moment I tell her I feel something
too. I feel it all.
In this moment, I feel every-fucking-thing, and I don’t care whose blood
runs through her body, whose name she was before my own.
I need to tell her we can do this. It may only be for tonight, but
tomorrow, we can start a future. A new one, carved out of a feeling I can’t
quite describe but long for.
Her eyes shimmer with emotion, and my heart hammers to get the
words out. My throat is dry and scratchy, but I long to tell her anyway.
“Camille, I . . .”
She shocks me by placing her finger over my lips. “Shhh. It’s okay, I
understand.”
Unshed tears swim in her eyes, and I long to tell her I don’t think she
understands at all. I need to tell her.
 But when her lips meet mine and I swallow back her desire, my cock
stirs back to life, and with it, the promise of tomorrow.

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Chapter Forty-One

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Luca

I ’m well aware there’s something wrong with my wife. She woke this
morning and refused to look at me. My leg bounces in frustration as we
wait for the wedding proceedings. I want nothing more than the reassurance
of her touch, to grab her hand and take it in mine, but as I cast my eyes
around the room once again, I’m aware of every Mafia figurehead in here
and every security detail scrutinizing every movement.
STORM Enterprises oversees the event, a mutual security team that is
used frequently in the Mafia world, but I also have a family connection with
them that helps put my mind at ease. Shaw is the co-owner, and his best
friend, Owen, is the head of security here today.
Feeling eyes on me, I glance up at Cal O’Connell staring at Camille,
then his gaze flicks back to me, as though trying to figure out how close we
are, how much we really hate one another, no doubt. The thought has me
pleased I never took her hand in mine, no matter how much I itched to do
so. I glare back at him with narrowed eyes, daring him to look at my wife
again, and he chuckles in amusement.
Camille stares straight ahead, poised like the perfect Mafia wife. Void of
emotion, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was the one getting
married. Her unnerving demeanor is unwarranted, and I can’t help but
wonder if she’s constructed the same walls I myself have been battling to
break down. I sure as hell hope not.
I’ll speak to her tonight after the wedding. I need her to know I’d never
hurt her, no matter what happens with her family.

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 CAMILLE

My heart hammers in my chest, and I resist the urge to chew on my

fingernails, conscious of each and every movement that might give away
my intentions.
I can’t look at Luca, not after last night. Not after I’m so certain he was
going to confess something to me.
If I didn’t know better, I’d have said he made love to me. He was
passionate and tentative, caring. His body lit mine with a thousand flames,
and the pools of admiration in his eyes tampered each and every one of
them, allowing me to swim in his loving embrace.
I long to reach out and touch him, beg him to be the man I know he can
be, but I can’t risk the wrath of the man I know he is. The darkness so
consuming the light can never truly shine.
“I swear if that fucker looks at me one more time, I’ll skin him from my
rafters.” His words snap me out of my thoughts as I glance over my
shoulder at his nemesis, my uncle Dario. He doesn’t even give me so much
as a second glance; it’s almost as though I never existed, and although that
thought should hurt, it doesn’t, not when I know the truth.
Not when I know he could have ended the bloodshed Luca bathed in, all
to save face.
 Luca lifts my hand and kisses the tips of my fingers. His warmth
spreads through me, and my stomach rolls at his gentle action until I gaze
up to find him locked in a stare off with Dario. I drop my hand at realizing
I’m just a pawn in their game.
I raise my chin and straighten my spine, knowing it’s a game I’m going
to end soon.
In blood we’re bound. In trust we live.

I glance at the clock above the bar. Counting down the minutes feels like an
eternity. A second closer to my new life, our new life, and each one feeling
like a lifetime in the making.
Luca speaks in a hushed voice to Enzo, who keeps flicking his eyes to
me; it makes my body vibrate with nerves. Can he tell what I’m about to
do? Does he know the path I’m about to take?
The clock reaches ten past, and I push back in my chair, my legs feeling
like Jell-O. Luca casts his eyes up to mine, and in that moment, I feel like
I’m going to crumble. His black eyes flash with compassion before he
masks it. His lips turn up into a snarl. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
Hurt slices through my chest as Enzo sighs at my husband’s harsh
words. “You’ve been unbearable all fucking day.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble without thinking about what I’m actually sorry
for. Leaving him, maybe? My hands tremble as I fidget with my purse.
He exhales. “Camille.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as if I’m
testing the boundaries of his patience. “I’m trying to talk to Enzo. Would
you fuck off, like a good little wife? We’re talking business.”
Hurt floods me as I stare back at the man who can turn in the blink of an
eye. His harsh words slice through me so strong I struggle to remain
standing, and I grip onto the back of one of the chairs for support.
 He lifts an eyebrow, and his eyes flare with rage at my vulnerable state.
When I silently plead with him to show compassion, he proves once again
he has none. “Jesus! Go to your fucking room, will you?” He throws our
keycard onto the table.
I close my eyes as I compose myself. Every bit of reassurance I needed
for the step I’m going to take, he solidified it in a matter of seconds.
Determination takes over me as I snap my eyes open to the familiar
expression of hate glaring back at me with retribution flashing in his cruel
eyes. His lip lifts into a snarl at my frozen state.
Finally, I clear my throat and pull back my shoulders, snatching up the
keycard. “Have a good evening, Enzo.” My eyes meet my husband’s, and
emotion clogs my throat. When I wanted his eyes to shine with the
tenderness that I know they can, they drill me with detest. A menacing,
sinister sneer. “Goodbye, Luca.”
I turn and walk away, the ball of dread fading with each step as I walk
into my future.

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Chapter Forty-Two

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Luca

“G oodbye, Luca.” Her words replay in my mind. Why did they seem
so final? Why did her simple sentiment make my stomach plummet and my
heart panic?
“Did you have to be such a prick?” My eyes snap back to Enzo, and he
winces at knowing he’s overstepped, but right now, I don’t care about that.
For the first time in my life, I don’t care about the disrespect of my right-
hand man. All I care about is the hurtful words that poured from my mouth
and spilled with such venom Camille physically recoiled. I could tell myself
it’s for the best, that she won’t become a target to my enemies when they
see how poorly I treat her. But I’d be lying to myself.
I fucked up. A heavy ball of anxiety lurches in my stomach.
“Her face, Luca.” Enzo shakes his head, his expression one of pity and
hopelessness. “She deserves better.” I’m just about to open my mouth and
spew my usual comments about the poison running through her veins, but
her crumpled face flashes before my eyes, and hurt and dejection coupled
with defeat makes panic pump through my veins. It’s a look I never want to
see on her beautiful face again.
I spring to my feet.
“Luca, where are you . . .” I make my way across the dance floor and
toward our hotel room.
For the first time in my life, I need to apologize.
I stab the elevator again in annoyance, and when the doors finally open,
drunken guests spill out. I push through them, ignoring their disdain as I
slam my hand against the button for our floor.
Why the fuck do I feel so desperate to hold her in my arms? Ensuring
she’s mine.
 My legs bounce as I glance up at the numbers flashing—each one is like
a cruel taunt, as if knowing I fucked up and wanting to punish me for it.
When the doors slide open, I push past them, clipping my shoulder in
the process as I stride toward our room.
Scanning the spare keycard, I breathe out a sigh of relief as I step into
the room. Of course, it’s silent, still. She’ll be in bed, no doubt, so I make
my way there, considering whether I should have grabbed the champagne
bucket on the way.
When I push open the door, the bedsheets are straight, untouched. I
listen for running water in the bathroom but hear none. I move toward it,
peeking inside to find there’s no Camille.
Pulling out my phone, I glance at the screen; no messages, so I quickly
tap one out to Owen and Enzo, asking for details on Camille’s location.
Then I pull up her tracker to locate where she is while waiting on a
breakdown of who she is with from my men.
Her ping flashes on my screen, showing her phone is in my room, and
my heart races with trepidation.
I scan the room, landing on the bed where her phone sits on a blanket
folded neatly at the end. I internally kick myself for not noticing it before
now.
Bile creeps up my throat, and my body feels like it’s floating in a cloud
of panic and confusion.
“Luca? What the fuck is wrong?” I turn to find Enzo staring at me, his
face etched in concern as his narrowed eyes flick over my face with
uncertainty.
My words won’t come out, because honestly, I’m not sure what’s
wrong, or what’s happening, for that matter. All I know is something isn’t
right. Something doesn’t feel right. Not at all.
“Where the fuck’s my wife?” My words come out choked, an edge of
bewilderment to them that’s odd, even to my own ears.
 A noise tears from my lungs, a concoction of rage and disappointment
as I let out a roar. What the fuck is she playing at? Anger fires through me.
“I’ll fucking kill her!” I scream as I lunge for the door with Enzo hot on my
heels.

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 CAMILLE

I glance up at the camera on the side of the building. The feeling of

someone watching me makes me peek over my shoulder again. My
paranoia is through the roof with each move I make, and I feel like a siren is
directly above my head, giving away my deceit.
Breathing out, I try to regulate the rapid thrum of my heart beating; it’s
so loud I hear it in my ears. I give myself a pep talk and push on with my
plan, knowing this is the only opportunity I will ever get to start again.
But still, it doesn’t stop the ball of guilt growing inside me. My pulse
races and my legs feel like they’re wading through mud instead of the
trimmed undergrowth I’m stepping into. In heels, no less.
The snapping of branches startles me, and I almost lose my footing, so I
cling to a tree for stability. I dig my nails into the bark when a whizzing
screams above me before exploding above the branches. The hairs on the
back of my neck stand on end with a rush of nervousness, making my legs
quiver.
Knowing the fireworks are coming to an end, I realize this is my
opportunity to get away. I was told I needed to make my escape while the
distractions were happening around me.
“Camille?” A gruff voice makes me jump as I turn to face a biker.
 I take him in; he has broad shoulders and short, cropped hair, and he’s
handsome with a sharp jawline. He wears some sort of vest with patches on
it. “Name’s Pawn.” He points to the patch showing his name. I stifle a
mocking laugh, because how ironic this man is named like the position I
find myself in. A pawn.
“You sure you wanna do this?” He crooks an eyebrow at me, as though
sensing my deliberation.
Swallowing thickly, I nod, and his shoulders relax. He throws a bag at
my feet, and it lands with a heavy thud. “Gonna turn around, sweetheart.
You’re gonna need to change.” He points down at the bag, and realization
hits home that I can’t leave as a Mafia princess. I’ll be leaving as a biker
chick.
He turns to face the hotel as I make quick work of opening the bag and
pulling out flimsy clothes I’d never be allowed to wear. The thought makes
me scoff as I hold up the leather pants sent by Jasmine as a disguise.
Pawn turns his head to the side without looking in my direction.
“You’ve got to hurry, sweetheart. I got a distraction happening in
exactly”—he glances at his phone—“four minutes, and we don’t want to be
around when that happens.”
I still at his words as a feeling of dread comes over me. Are they
planning on hurting someone? Luca?
“What kind of distraction?”
This time, he does glance over his shoulder and locks eyes with mine.
“The animal kind.” He winks as his lips tip up into a knowing smirk.

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Chapter Forty-Three

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Luca

E nzo and I scanned over the guests in the ballroom while my men
worked over the patio area. Each message of “all clear” to our phones made
my heart sink further. “I’ve sent Paulo to security. They’re checking the
camera feeds now,” Enzo adds as I make my way to the patio doors. “I’ll go
check the restrooms. Meet you outside.”
I nod at his words and push through the doors, only to come to a
standstill when I see one of the O’Connell kids standing with his back to
me, and he stares aimlessly outside. I’ve heard a lot about the kid—he’s
highly intelligent, a child prodigy. At over six feet tall, he sure as hell
doesn’t look like a child, and when he turns to face me, I realize he
probably isn’t.
My words come out rushed. “Hey, kid.” His eyes drill into mine, and his
lip curls at the side with disdain before he quickly drops it, as though trying
to disguise his feelings for me. This kid is quick, but I don’t have time to
overanalyze the inner workings of some cocky fucker, not when I have a
wife to find. I drag my hand through my hair, not for the first time tonight,
as anxiety ripples through me with each second ticking by. “Have you seen
my wife anywhere?”
He stares back at me with a deadpan expression, as though dumb, which
makes my palms twitch with a need to punish him because I know he’s
anything but.
“I don’t know who you are.” He gives me a nonchalant shrug that has
me grinding my teeth. Of course he knows who I fucking am! Every fucker
knows who I am.
The little punk purposely smirks, the action done clearly to anger me.
“I’m Luca Varros, but I think you know that already. Don’t you?” I lock
eyes with him. Mine deadly and full of darkness, his bright blue and shining
in jest. I take a menacing step toward him, ready to put my gun to his head
if need be.
“Would you like to stroke my Pussy?” His words startle me, and my
eyes bug out in horror, because what the actual fuck?
He holds a cat up, and I step back with a disgusted grimace. Is this kid
right in the head?
My eyes travel over his body to see if there’s anything that might
confirm there’s something missing with the kid but nope. Not a goddamn
thing. “Pussy likes being stroked.”
“Boss. I checked the restrooms. She isn’t there.” Enzo’s voice snaps me
out of my conversation with the weird kid, and his words cause my spine to
straighten and my shoulders to bunch tight with a rush of worry. A ball of
dread tells me something is wrong. Very fucking wrong.
I turn away from the kid and head back toward the reception area.
“Check the security footage,” I snap over my shoulder in Enzo’s
direction, pissed I have no reports coming in on my phone from the security
office at all.
Just what the fuck are my men playing at?
Seeing the door to security, I bypass the guard outside and throw open
the door, ready to demand answers.
Half a dozen men turn in my direction as I storm into the room.
One of the security team steps forward. “We have the place on
lockdown.”
“Show me the last footage you have of her!” I spit out.
His eyes dart away from mine, and he shakes his head. “All footage of
the day is gone.”
Anger surges into my head, and without thinking, I withdraw my
weapon and aim it at the dumb fucker minding the security screen. “I . . .
it’s gone.” He babbles, and I lose my patience. Clearly, he’s not needed, so I
release a bullet into his head. He jerks at the impact, and brain matter
splatters the whitewash walls. But not an ounce of satisfaction is drained
from me. Not a fucking ounce.
Enzo rests a hand on my arm. “Luca. We need Oscar; he’ll be able to
retrieve it.” His phone buzzes in his hand, and I motion for him to answer.
His eyes lift to mine. “Oscar’s down at the lake. The other guys too.”
I leave no time for discussion as I rush from the office and back outside,
becoming more and more aggravated with no answers whatsoever.
We rush outside, and an eerie sense of calm has been hushed over the
grounds when only minutes ago it was full of guests. I glance at Enzo, who
shrugs. My thoughts of uncertainty are banished when the O’Connell
brothers come into view, milling around down by the lake without a care in
the fucking world.
Bren spins, drawing his gun in my direction, but I ignore the idiot. “My
wife is missing, and the security footage is gone. I want this place locked
down. Right fucking now!”
Oscar taps furiously away on his phone while Bren lifts his to his ear. At
least the pricks are taking me seriously.
Cal steps forward. “We’ll sort it. Head up toward the reception, and
we’ll meet you there; she couldn’t have got far.”
Enzo moves to my ear. “We should double check your room. Make sure
all her belongings are there.” Dread fills my stomach, but I nod as we turn
away from the brothers and head back up to the hotel.
Groups of people are gathered in the foyer of the hotel, and I ignore the
chatter and alarm in their voices. I don’t know what the fuck is happening,
but unless it involves my wife, I’m uninterested. Enzo keeps glancing at his
phone, but I’m unable to think clearly enough to ask him what’s transpiring.
My mind races with thoughts of Camille and if she tried leaving on her own
free will, and after the way I treated her again, who could blame her?
I’m torn between wanting to hug her and wanting to throttle her for
causing me such stress, but one thing is clear in my mind: When I get my
hands on her, I’m never letting her go.
Enzo opens the door to the hotel room and steps aside, and I walk
toward the bedroom and come to a halt at her phone laying in the same spot
as before. I lift it with intrigue, but my eyes latch onto what’s beneath the
phone.
I suck in a sharp breath as my body stiffens at the sight of the charred
gold chain I threw into the fire. My fingers tremble as I pick it up, the
foreign object ominous between the tips of my fingers. Fuck, I hate this
thing.
The edges are melted, but when I lift the chain for the first time, I read
the small inscription on it. “Never be who people expect you to be.” I turn it
over. “The only person you need to be is yourself.”
My mind is foggy, and a dull pain hits me in the chest. I can’t seem to
comprehend any thoughts, and a distant noise rings out as I stare at the
chain between my fingers, the heaviness of it seeming impossible to
fathom. The weight lands in my stomach and my chest too, and my
breathing becomes erratic. Enzo stands beside me, glancing at the phone
and then to the chain in my fingers. His hand moves toward it, and for some
ridiculous reason, I’m reluctant to give it over. Reluctant to give over this
piece of my wife, when not so long ago, I so eagerly dismissed it like the
trash I perceived it to be.
“Luca?” he questions softly, a tone he only uses occasionally around me
when discussing my loved ones. The notion isn’t lost on me, and I choke on
the thought as I hand it over.
His fingers graze over the charred edges, and my fingers twitch to
snatch it back protectively. “What is this?”
My throat clogs, and I shake my head in disbelief. “It’s hers.” I clear it
and try again. “I think it was his.”
Enzo’s eyes meet mine, and he nods in understanding.
“She left it behind?”
 My world tilts on an axis as understanding takes over the meaning of
her leaving the chain.
A choked sob rips from inside my chest, and the weight of his words sits
heavily in my gut as I hunch over, choking down a sob.
“She left me behind.”

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Chapter Forty-Four

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Oscar

M y brothers and I gather in the security room. Every member of staff

has been cleared out as I work frantically to try and bypass whatever code
has been embedded into the security system that only myself and Reece
have access to.
My eyes snap up to Cal’s. “Get Reece!”
His eyes widen in realization, and he turns, giving us his back as he
talks into his phone, his voice low but full of agitation. My brother unravels
before me, the tugging of his hair a giveaway at what is becoming a frantic
call to locate his son.
“Teddy and his club are asking to leave.” Bren side-eyes me, as if
asking for approval.
I shake my head. “Not yet.” He nods in agreement, no doubt wanting
reassurance with his own thoughts.
Finn steps forward. “Tiger’s under control. Shot the fucker in the head.”
“They shot an innocent animal in the fucking head?” Con gasps in
horror.
“Wasn’t fucking innocent, you dumb shit,” Bren chastises him.
“They sedated it, you god damn pussy,” Finn spits in Con’s direction.
Con sighs and throws himself back in the swivel chair, spinning around.
“Good. I had to put down one mil on the fucker as security deposit.”
Cal sucks in a sharp breath, and his eyes widen, threatening to explode.
“One fucking mil?”
Con shrugs. “If you’d have read the wedding breakdown, you’d have
realized.” He grins. “It was under entertainment.”
Finn snorts. “Some fucking entertainment.”
The door swings open and hits the wall. “Why the fuck have you
dragged me down here?” Reece stands in the doorway with a sneer on his
face. “I was busy.”
Cal steps forward. “Doing what?”
Reece throws him a death glare, his eyes narrowing. “Why the interest
in me all of a sudden?” There’s an odd, tense atmosphere between the two
of them, as though something is happening, something simmering beneath
the surface.
And I know just what that something is. Or someone.
I press on the pressure points of my head as I try to remain focused.
Annoyance rumbles inside me, screaming to get out. Have these idiots
forgot what they’re doing here in the first place?
“Can we concentrate on what we’re here for? Before Luca fucking
Varros declares a war!” I snap in frustration.
All eyes turn to me, and I give them a nod of approval.
“Reece, why’d you delete the security footage?” I snap, unperturbed of
what is going to be a backlash from him.
His lip curls in disdain, and I know he’s about to lie to me the moment
his mouth opens. I hold my hand up to stop him, too pissed to be putting up
with his shit.
“Don’t even bother trying.”
He glares back at me and straightens his shoulders, as though getting
ready for battle.
I lean forward and lower my voice. “Do you really want me to have to
spill your secr—”
“Fine!” he snaps, not allowing me to finish my sentence, knowing full
well I hold the upper hand. He tugs at his hair, just like his father. “Mother
fucker,” he spits in my direction, and Finn chuckles in amusement while
Cal’s eyes dart from mine to Reece in question.
“He was being a prick, so I gave her a head start.”
“Head start?” Bren’s deep voice penetrates the room.
Reece rolls his eyes at my brother’s question.
 “The poor woman was miserable all day. She was trying to do a runner,
so I gave her the time she needed.” He shrugs as though he did it out of
being a good person. We all know differently. We all know he would have
done it out of vengeance. Nothing more.
“Shit.” Cal drops his head back against the wall at what a shitshow we
have made of the night. Bren blows out a breath.
My mind races a mile a minute trying to decipher the codes he will have
used. “What about . . .”
“I deleted the backup too.” His lips twitch, as though he’s proud of
himself but knows now is not the right time to gloat.
“We have a missing Mafia princess on our watch when we reassured all
Mafia families they were safe under our control, and now we don’t even
have footage to prove our innocence in this?” Cal states the obvious. “Do
you realize how fucking serious this is, Reece?”
He spins to face Cal. “He called me a fucking kid! What the hell did you
expect me to do?”
The door opens, and all heads turn toward Owen from STORM
Enterprises. “He’s supposed to be in charge of security too. Blame him.”
Reece points to Owen, who raises his eyebrows in shock.
“We don’t have backup,” I clarify.
As if reading between the lines at Reece’s comment, Owen sighs and
pulls his phone from his pocket. He leans over the desk and plugs it into the
USB cable from the hard drive. “Good job I create my own backup on
every job I undertake. Huh?” I stare back at him nonchalantly. “Pretty sure
you knew that already though, right, Oscar?” He winks, and my lip twitches
in almost a smile.
Of course I fucking knew. I researched the shit out of his team.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Cal exhales. No doubt his life flashed before his
dumb eyes.
 Owen plays with the recordings, and we watch as Camille Varros makes
a run for the forest on the east end of the property.
My eyes flick over the screen, and I wince when I witness Teddy kick
open the Tiger gate before turning toward the camera and winking.
“I’m going to fucking kill him!” Finn seethes.
Bren is already on the phone sending men in that direction, and within
seconds, his phone pings. A series of images emerge on the screen. One of a
folded pile of clothes and the other of fresh tire marks. Obvious motorcycle
marks.
“Jesus.” Con sighs, realizing what shit our half brother has landed us in.
“Get Teddy in here now!” Bren barks into the phone.

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 LUCA

I stare back at Bren as Owen leans against the wall, clearly in on this
conversation as a peacemaker.
My eyes drill into Bren’s. “Let me get this fucking straight. One of
your . . .” I grimace at the thought of referring to their half sibling biker as a
brother.
“Reprobates.” Enzo steals the words from my lips.
Bren’s jaw tics with anger while Oscar casually drags a controlled
finger over his bottom lip.
“One of those. Assisted my wife in leaving this place,” I spit while
casting my hand around the room.
What was supposed to be a heavily guarded and secure event was
clearly anything but.
My temple pulses with rage, and my fingers twitch to draw my weapon.
Enzo glances at me as if surveying my mood.
“Our brother didn’t have anything to do with it,” Bren grits out.
“A biker drove off your fucking premises with my wife, and you dare
tell me your biker brother didn’t have anything to do with it?” I seethe.
“Your wife went willingly, so don’t turn this around on us.” He glares
back at me equally.
 “Where are they now?” Enzo asks, turning toward Oscar as Bren and I
continue our deadly stare off.
“The biker involved is a nomad.”
“No fucking what?” Enzo’s head rears back, dumbfounded.
“Nomad. It means he’s not part of any club,” Oscar tells us
despondently.
If they think this is an acceptable excuse, then they can think a-fucking-
gain. “So he what? Rides round picking up Mafia wives?” I spit.
“Teddy informed us he would have received a payment for the job,”
Oscar clips.
I fly from my chair. “A fucking job? My wife is not a fucking job.”
Bren and Owen push me back into the chair while Enzo pushes to his
feet but finds himself outnumbered when Oscar draws a gun on him.
“Everyone needs to calm down. We need a plan because someone
helped her, and I can promise you we’ll find out who, Luca.” He stares back
at me with determination, and I sag back into my chair and listen as Oscar
highlights where to start the search.
My hand finds the chain in my pocket, and I pull it out, flipping it over
to reread the inscription. Something tells me I need to go back in order to
move forward.
Never be who people expect you to be. The only person you need to be
is yourself. My gut squeezes at knowing how she longed to be something
more and now she’s taken the opportunity.
I was dimming her light with my darkness, and I hate myself for it.

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Chapter Forty-Five

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

I place my empty bottle of scotch on the nightstand and throw myself on

the bed. Her scent encompasses me, and my heart races with a need to feel
her close. Picking up her pillow—which I refused to let Maria wash—I
breathe in her scent, closing my eyes and imagining her touch. My cock
thickens, and annoyance rumbles from deep inside my chest at how she so
easily affects me, even in her absence.
I throw the pillow down in anger and snatch my iPad from the
nightstand. I scroll through the countless videos of us together before
pressing play and propping it upright.
Staring at the screen, I watch myself fucking her ruthlessly from behind.
My cock jerks as I close my eyes under my touch. “Fucking take it, whore,”
I pant out on the screen, and my balls draw up.
I tug my boxers down, taking out my hard cock, and pre-cum leaks from
the end, and I long for my wife’s lips to clean me.
“Luca,” she breathes, forcing my eyes to close at the sound of her voice.
I pump myself faster with each sound escaping her lips.
“More, please more,” she begs as I ram into her.
I squeeze the tip, exhaling with need at the pressure building in my
veins. My hand goes back to work.
“Please, Luca.”
My hand works faster and faster.
Fuck, I need her. I fucking need her so bad. My hand works quicker, but
I need more, I need her.
I grab her pillow and roll onto my knees, pressing my cock into her
scent while she moans on screen. “Fucking whore. Fucking leaving me! I
fucking hate you!” I roar. “Fuck.” My cock drips into her pillow. “That’s it,
little whore. Take my cock.”
 I push into the pillow harder as the slapping of my flesh against hers
rings out on audio. “Fuck yes.” My balls draw up at imagining her tightness
engulfing me, forcing the head of my cock to swell and my mouth to fall
open.
“Fuck, Camille.” My release floods the fabric as my chest heaves, but it
doesn’t dull the need for her. It doesn’t tamper the feeling of loneliness and
desperation of the void she leaves behind.
It doesn’t stop me craving her.
My body curls over as I allow myself the freedom to break down and
mourn the loss of my wife and the truth that set her free.

It’s been four months since my wife went missing, and every night when I
attempt to close my eyes, I see her face. When I finally find myself drifting
off to sleep, the pained expression of disappointment etched on her beauty
makes me gasp with air as I scramble from the sheets in a cold sweat.
I have Maxim running the business while Enzo and I have thrown
ourselves into finding Camille.
The O’Connells’ half brother, Teddy, has been scouring the MC clubs in
search for the nomad that disappeared with my wife. I know this to be true
because I have my men watching him closely.
Of course I’ve had to pull resources from watching the Riccis in order
to do so, but right now, my wife’s return is more important. That realization
alone came to me only a few days after her disappearance.
The O’Connell kid claimed to have a sighting of her in LA, which, after
fueling the jet and making our way there, turned out to be a wild goose
chase. It made me wonder if the kid is fucking with me or clearly not as
intelligent as everyone perceives him to be.
 My men have interviewed every member of staff and client she came in
contact with in her line of work, leading to nothing but dead ends.
It appears she’s vanished into thin air.
After going over and over every conversation I’ve ever had with
Camille for a glimmer of something that could help me, I’m standing
outside of the fucking dive bar claiming to be a tiki bar in the hope I can
locate the barman that seemed to know her.
“You’ve been here before?” Enzo turns his lip up in disgust.
I would laugh, but I find it difficult, given my mood. Instead, I ignore
his horror and push through the doors. The hula-dancing mannequin grates
on me the second I walk past it, and I grind my teeth, struggling to rein in
not destroying the annoying fucker.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Enzo exhales, glancing around the themed club.
I step up to the bar, and hope flares in my chest when familiar eyes lift
from cutting fruit.
It’s fucking him!
His eyes light up. “Well, hello, handsome. I didn’t think we’d see you
here again.” His eyebrows dance with jest, and his words make Enzo choke.
“What can I get you?”
“Information,” I snap.
He rears back, shocked at my words.
“My wife.”
His eyes widen as shock mars his face. “Your wife?”
I watch him closely for any sign of insincerity. “That’s right. She was
kidnapped.” Slight bend on the truth, but that’s the one we’re feeding
everyone. Only the O’Connells, Lorenzo, and my closest men are aware of
the truth. This way, not only do I maintain my fucking dignity, but there’s
also a sense of urgency around finding her.
“Oh my god. She’s missing?” His bottom lip quivers, and Enzo’s eyes
widen in shock at his reaction. The only time we see emotion from a man is
when we tear the skin off their balls and douse their wounds with salt.
“Yes. She’s missing. I need as much information as possible, from
everyone you know.” I glare at him with severity. “Any contacts, we’d like
to pursue.”
“Have you contacted the police?”
“Of course. But I want to do something to help too.” I lie with well-
practiced ease.
“You must feel awful. No wonder you look so bad.” I stare back at the
only man who has dared to mention my appearance. I can barely look in the
mirror at myself due to the self-loathing.
Enzo steps forward. “Can you help?”
He picks up his phone. “I have Justin’s social media page. But I’m sure
he’d have helped already, right?”
“Justin?” Enzo questions.
The guy’s eyes dart from Enzo’s to mine in panic, and my muscles
bunch tight. He eventually sighs in defeat. “The guy she was with before
you were married.”
“The doctor.” My voice is monotone, uncaring, but inside, I’m raging. If
she ran away to be with him, I’ll fucking kill him in front of her. My mind
races with every conversation we’ve ever had. Her dream of a small house
with a white picket fence and a porch all come to mind. She wanted
normality. She wanted a life.
She never wanted the Mafia.
Never be who people expect you to be. The only person you need to be
is yourself.
“Right, the doctor,” he confirms, handing his phone over to Enzo, who
takes a quick snapshot.
“Anything else that can help?”
I’m still frozen to the spot as they have a conversation around me.
While in my mind, I see her with someone else when she was meant to be
mine.

“You sure this is the place?” Enzo asks, his eyes roaming over the area for
anything out of place.
I cast my eyes up at the apartment building, hoping to Christ my wife is
in there but also hoping she isn’t. It’s a shithole, and the thought of another
man putting his hands on her makes me feel like a starved, caged animal
ready rip apart its prey.
“This is it.”
We climb the stairs in tandem and head down the open corridor until we
come to apartment number eleven.
I bang on the door and hear a squeal of shock from behind the thin
material. But I relax because I know it didn’t come from my wife. Footsteps
travel toward the door, and when the idiot opens it without so much as
checking the peephole, I almost choke on a laugh at how easy this is.
My hand whips out before he even opens the door fully, and I slam him
against the inside wall by his throat. Scanning over him with revulsion, I
find it difficult to see any similarities in us at all. Is this what she likes? This
clean-cut preppy shit. Hate rages inside me, and I involuntarily squeeze
harder.
“Jesus, Luca. Let him fucking breathe, we need information from him.
We don’t need to kill him just yet.” His eyes bulge wider at Enzo’s words,
and his words sink in as I ease my grip.
A gasp is released from someone in the room, and my eyes dart to the
target where Enzo already has a gun trained on a female. “Sit!” he barks,
motioning toward an armchair with his gun, and she drops her ass into it
immediately.
I kick the door shut.
 “I’m looking for Camille.” Justin’s face pales even more than I thought
was humanly possible.
“Who . . . who are you?”
“Luca. Her husband.”
His shoulders sag in what appears to be relief, not something I’m used
to, and I don’t miss the curious glance Enzo casts my way.
“I have something for you.” He tilts his head toward a door, and I
finally release my hold on him to allow him to lead the way.
He opens the door to a well-kept bedroom, and my eyes lock onto the
bed, wondering if they used it together. Is this where she gave him head?
Jealousy and hurt flood my veins when truly there’s no reason for it being
there.
Justin glances over his shoulder as he opens his closet and pulls down a
box. I stand in the doorway watching his every move.
“When was the last time you saw her?”
He locks eyes with me as he lifts the lid. “Before you married. The day
the SUV came to take her away.” His tone is full of sincerity.
“When did you last hear from her?”
“The very same day. I knew it was the end . . .”
My spine straightens at his insinuation. Damn fucking right it was the
end.
“Here, she gave me this and told me to keep it safe until I felt the time
was right.” He hands me a thick brown envelope. Luca Varros is written in
her handwriting across the front.
Emotion makes it difficult for me to speak, so I clear my throat. “What’s
in it?”
“I’ve no idea. It’s sealed. She trusted me, I wouldn’t break her trust.” He
shrugs, but his words are pained as though saying them was a struggle. It’s
clear he cared for her, and I want to hate him for it, but in this moment, as
the weight of an envelope sits in my hands, I almost want to thank him for
giving her happiness when her life has been so full of hate.
I turn on my heel and motion for Enzo to follow me.

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Chapter Forty-Six

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

I stare at the envelope on my desk, and my stomach rolls knowing I’m

not going to like what’s in there. How far has she gone to create a new life?
How much did she hate me for me to finally succeed in pushing her away?
“Luca,” Enzo grinds out, and my eyes snap up to his. He sits forward in
his chair when I pick up the envelope. My heart hammers as I tear it open
with shaky hands.
I pull the bundle of papers and drop them onto the desk with a thud
when I see my sister’s name on the first paper.
Enzo rises from his chair to lean over the desk and turns it slightly.
“Eleanor?” he questions.
The familiar sickness waves through my body whenever I think about
my sister. “What the fuck is this?” he spits when he turns a page detailing
an autopsy report.
Sections are highlighted, as though the person constructing this
information has been researching.
“How’d she . . .”
Enzo doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because so much makes
sense. “She went into medical law for a reason.” My heart thuds with an
overwhelming emotion of pride and grief.
My wife, my Mafia wife, refused to be the woman our world destined
her to be. She chose to be so much more.
“This is the reason.” I tap the page, and Enzo nods in understanding.
“She saw something we didn’t.” I choke on my words.
“She saw a different truth,” Enzo confirms. His face is pale, and his
eyebrows draw in, etched with concern, a mirror image of mine, I’m
certain.
 Turning the page, I seethe with hatred when I see the body of Christian,
her brother. Enzo’s body coils tight too, no doubt feeling anger at the
bloodied piece of shit in the photo.
I scan the image, wondering how the fuck Camille could even look at it,
but something hits me square in the chest. He’s bloodied. Beaten to a pulp.
From all accounts, a guard shot and killed him, there was no mention of an
attack.
“He was attacked?” Enzo questions, staring at the photo with the same
realization.
My throat goes dry as, for the millionth time, I go over the meeting I
had with Lorenzo in which the Riccis accepted responsibility for my sister’s
death that resulted in one of my guards shooting Christian dead.
Unfortunately, he was shot too and was never able to tell us how he found
Christian assaulting my sister. But the conclusion by both our families was
the same.
Christian had raped and murdered Eleanor in a warehouse down by the
docks. He was interrupted, and one of my guards drew his gun as Christian
did the same.
All three bodies were found a few hours later.
Could Camille be right? Was there more to the story than I was led to
believe? Wanted to believe?
I turn the page, and my heart hammers as I recognize the delicate arm of
my little sister. My eyes well as I trace over her arm with the tip of my
finger until I reach her cheek. Her head is tilted to the side, and she looks
peaceful, apart from a red mark on her face. I stare at it, wondering how she
got it.
Did he hit her? Had she bumped it on the ground?
I’d imagined my sister to be broken, battered, and bloodied. I imagined
a scene that haunted my nightmares, but seeing her so peaceful feels like a
kick to my gut. She almost seems at peace, a stark contrast to everything I
believed.
“She looks . . .” Enzo’s eyes meet mine with sympathy.
“I know.”
I turn the page.
The red mark on her cheek has been expanded, and I turn the
photograph to try and decipher what the hell it is. My world plummets, I’m
lightheaded, and my vision clouds.
The blood in my veins turns to ice, and my lungs struggle to work
adequately enough to give me the air I so desperately fight for.
“Luca? What the fuck is it? Luca?”
I push back on my chair, unable to answer him. Because all I see on the
image is something as clear as day to me, but to anyone else, it would be
alien.
I rush toward the trash bin and heave my guts into it. My whole body is
vibrating with a pain far worse than her death.
Betrayal.
I squeeze my eyes closed from the pain lancing through me. I feel
paralyzed, a knife cutting through me, leaving my heart exposed and
pumping blood aimlessly, spilling to create a vivid image of truth.
“Luca?” Fuck. “Should I call Maxim?”
I snap out of my daze at the mention of my brother.
I nod. “Ask him to meet us at Cedars warehouse.”
Enzo scans my face, knowing I haven’t been in that warehouse since my
sister was murdered. Since I started my rampage all in the name of
vengeance.
He takes out his phone and taps furiously.
While I stare down at the photograph.
In blood we’re bound. In trust we live.

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Chapter Forty-Seven

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

“A re you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Enzo grits out
as we pull into the parking lot.
My hand grips the file in my lap.
“You’ll see.” I choke the words out—the only ones I’ve managed since
leaving my office.
He gives a swift nod, but I can see the concern shining through his eyes
as he climbs out of the car. I take a deep breath and walk toward the
warehouse, allowing Enzo to follow.
The sound of the metal door scraping against the concrete echoes into
the empty space. I refused to use the warehouse again after her death, but it
seems fitting to end it all here where it all began. But first I need to know
how it started.
Maxim turns as we enter, and his eyes narrow as I lock the door. For the
first time in my life, I see a calculated shift in his body, as though he’s
creating a veil for his true feelings.
A veil to cover the truth.
“What’s wrong? Why the fuck have you insisted on meeting here? Of
all fucking places, Luca!” he spits in outrage, hurt lacing his tone, and Enzo
winces in understanding.
Maxim lost a sister too, of course, and he grieved just like me.
Sometimes worse than me, and it made me want to protect him all the more.
He also became an ally in taking down our enemies. We were able to use
the pain we were feeling to rid the world of the scum that caused it.
I throw the file at his feet, and as it falls, the very photo to slip out is the
one that brought me to my knees. To him.
The one that caused so much catastrophic hurt to so many people I can’t
bear thinking about. I ignore the guilt for now. It’s what I do best, after all.
 “What is that?” He glances down at the photo. Even now he doesn’t see
it?
I slip the ring from my finger and throw it toward the photo. “The
branches of the tree are embedded in her cheek.”
His body jolts, his eyes widen, and he rears back in shock. “Luca, I . . .”
Enzo moves from behind me, understanding slipping into place, but I
hold out my arm against his chest, restraining him from getting closer.
My voice is calm and calculated. Everything I’m not in this moment,
but I’m so well versed in the art of performing, I slip into it with ease. “The
only other person to have one of those rings is you.” I stare at my brother,
whose eyes shine with remorse as his lip quivers in panic.
“I—”
I hold my hand up. “I deserve the truth, Maxim.” Our eyes lock, and I
point down to the picture of my sister’s lifeless body. “She deserves the
fucking truth!” He flinches.
“I’ll make sure it’s quick,” Enzo tacks on. Meaning, he’ll end him
quickly without the torture a traitor would normally endure. Right now, I
don’t care what he has to promise to get him to comply.
Maxim’s shoulders sag as though relieved at Enzo’s words.
He gives a reluctant nod.
“We were in love.”
Enzo scoffs at the notion, whereas I remain stoically still. My heart
hammering so hard it’s shattering piece by piece as I uncover a truth I could
never contemplate.
“I wanted to come to you. To ask for your hand in marriage.” My
temple pulsates in anger.
“You were her fucking brother,” Enzo spits in disgust.
“Adopted. I was her adopted brother.” He shakes his head and sniffles.
“It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t do it. She wanted to make you fucking
proud!” He raises his head and glares in my direction with hate. Has that
always been there? Have I always been blind to it?
“She messaged to meet here. I thought she might have changed her
mind. Wanted to run away together or something.” He shrugs like an idiot.
He was brought up in the Mafia; he knows damn well there’s no running
away from this life. The irony of it when my wife has clearly managed it so
well.
If only I hadn’t been so blind to see. So fucking desperate to wreak hell
and wipe out a bloodline.
“You killed her?” The chill in my tone sends a tremor down him.
His lip wobbles. “It was an accident.”
“A fucking accident?” Enzo spits.
“Explain.” I withdraw the gun from my back and hold it out.
He sighs, accepting his fate. “She refused to listen.”
“Then what?” I demand, wondering if he’ll tell the whole truth, the
bitter, cruel truth that I read in her autopsy report. How he forced himself on
her, then strangled her to death.
“You forced her?” Enzo asks.
“She was willing.” His eyes cut away for a brief moment, giving away
he’s lying.
“Did she say no?” My calm voice is no reflection of the turmoil I feel
inside. How I want to slaughter him and roll his withering, mangled body in
salt before dousing him in a ball of flames, only to piss on him and continue
my torture.
His sniveling does little to penetrate the venom I feel toward him.
“Yes.”
I close my eyes at the agony. She said no. At this moment, I realize the
difference between myself and my brother. As much as I wanted Camille, as
much as I craved her, I could never truly hurt her. Her “no” meant just that.
He truly is a monster.
 “Then what?” Enzo’s taught body shakes, giving way to how he’s
struggling to rein in his emotions. But I won’t allow him to punish my
brother. That satisfaction will be all mine.
“She was shouting for the guard, so I tried to make her quiet.” He falls
to his knees in a pool of self-pity. Snot and tears drip from his face as he
stares down at her photo. “She wouldn’t be fucking quiet!” His eyes snap
up to mine. “I knew she’d tell you. I just fucking knew it.”
“So you finished her,” I whisper, my heart breaking. Every fiber of my
love for my brother dissolved with his confession.
“I didn’t want to.”
“Where’d the Ricci kid come into all this?” Enzo asks. A flood of guilt
flows through my body so strong my footing wavers. Because for the first
time since opening the envelope, my mind registers Christian was innocent.
Camille was right.
“He tried to stop me. We fought.”
I suck in a sharp breath and step forward. “He tried to stop you?” Now
it’s Enzo that takes hold of my arm, as though worried I’m going to end
Maxim too soon.
Maxim appears completely unfazed, staring down at Eleanor’s photo.
“He tried,” he whispers. Then his eyes lock onto mine. “Will you end
me now?” He isn’t asking me if I will. No, he’s asking me to do it.
I raise my chin.
“Not a fucking chance.”
His head drops onto the concrete, and a loud wail rips from his chest
when he realizes his fate.
I tuck away my gun.
“Take him to my basement. I don’t want his blood spilling where
innocents died.”
“Luca. Please. Luca!” he screams with his legs flailing as Enzo drags
him out of the warehouse.
 I bend and pick up the photos and my ring. Sliding it back on my finger,
a peace washes over me I only feel when I’m in Camille’s presence.
“You need to bring her back to me, Eleanor. I need her light to help me
see through the darkness.”
In blood we’re bound. In trust we live.

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Chapter Forty-Eight

OceanofPDF.com
Luca

I walk into the basement with a controlled calmness.

Electricity thrums through my veins at the thought of ending this piece
of shit. Of doing the world a favor and finally ending the poison that ran
through my own family.
The betrayal cut deep. It was brutal and life changing.
Not only have I lost a sister and today will lose a brother, but I lost her.
He allowed me to believe someone else was capable of his evil and let
me punish her in the process. Something I will never forgive myself for.
The blood that was spilled was unnecessary, and one day, when I finally
catch up with my wife, I’ll spend a lifetime serving her as a husband
should. I’ll be by her side as she will mine, and I’ll never question her
loyalty again.
I may be losing a brother today, but I will be rewarded with the ultimate
gift, my wife.
My men line the room—they’re loyal and strong. They know what
happens in this room will remain a secret. That the demon about to come
out will hunt them down and skin them alive should they ever disobey my
loyalty.
My eyes latch onto Maxim, naked and his limbs stretched into cuffs in
an x. He stares right back at me, as though searching for something. “Luc
—” I hold up my hand to silence him. “Ple—”
“Would you like me to start with your tongue?”
He shakes his head and whimpers, knowing I mean every word.
“Then you’ll remain silent until you can’t take it any longer.” I take a
step toward the tool bench and pick up the blowtorch. “You’ll allow me to
repent your sins. Watch the blood spill from your traitorous body, like a
man. A man who has taken innocent people and destroyed them.” I step
toward him; his bare chest holds a tattoo of my sister’s name. How fucking
sick.
I refuse to burn her name from his skin, so I swap the torch for the
scalpel. Walking toward him, he shudders. “You put my sister’s name on
your chest? You sick fuck!” I spit at him, and I make a note of the need to
wash it off with his blood. Surging forward, I press deep, cutting the flesh
from him in a jagged chunk and relishing his screams of agony.
“You’re not worthy of her!” I dig in deeper.
My body is tight with anger, every muscle painful as I unleash my hate
on him at the sight of her name. “I’m cutting her name from you. Filth!” I
roar. I slice through his skin and muscles and delight in it. “I’m going to rid
the world of your poison, you sick fucker.”
His body sags in shock, then the fleshy meat falls to the floor, allowing
me to start my next technique with the blowtorch, and I smirk at the way his
body tenses once again.
As I press the flame against his stomach, he bites into his lip as his
whole body shakes while trying to withstand the burning pain. I press
deeper into the flesh, the skin melting beneath the naked flame. Stepping
back to view my canvas, I leave him a charred, burning mess. He howls in
agony, and I smash my fist into his face so hard his head rolls back. The
crack of his jaw is to be the first of many bones to break.
His arms tighten, and I latch onto the ring gifted by my beautiful sister. I
take the pliers, fixing them on his finger, and I ignore his protests while
snapping the digit from him. It falls to the floor, and I turn my head toward
Enzo, our eyes locking. “Take it. You deserve it.” He gifts me with a firm
nod of appreciation.
I deliver him another blow, slamming my fist into his ribs without
pause, hoping to purge my demons one by one, taking my rage, hate, and
anger out and pumping it into his body. Slam. This poison that runs in his
veins, not my wife’s. Slam.
 Blood splatters the floor, but it’s not enough—it will never be e-
fucking-nough.
I take the pliers again and go in for the kill.
“Luca, please.” He snivels at knowing what’s coming, making it all the
more meaningful, more enjoyable, more satisfying.
Clamping the pliers around the end of his cock, I snap the fleshy skin
from his body. The filth flowing from him pools at my feet as his wails and
screams fill the air, ricocheting off the concrete walls. I take it off piece by
piece.
Enzo steps forward with gloves on and stuffs Maxim’s mouth with the
chunks of his cock, and I curl my lip into a knowing smirk as his chest
heaves to regurgitate them.
Enzo nods at one of my men who steps behind Maxim while placing the
ball gag around his head and into his mouth, giving him no choice but to
accept the pieces of his cock.
As I lean against the wall, Maxim chokes on his cock. Enzo takes over
cutting off his toes and fingers as I watch the evil detach from him. Not a
single part of me aches for the boy I shared my life with. The moment I
knew he hurt my soft, bubbly sister, he became nothing more than a means
to a brutal end.
He’ll die tonight, taking his poison with him, and I’ll bask in the glory
of it.
Enzo detaches the ball gag, allowing Maxim to draw a breath. He pants,
his body a mess as he bleeds profusely onto the concrete floor. His body
falls, and I snap my fingers, and my men move, dousing him with ice-cold
water to keep him awake. “You need to be awake for this one, Maxim.
You’re going to die learning the true meaning of no. You’re going to wish
you respected my sister.” I take his chin between my fingers. “It’s going to
hurt.” I smile at him and the way his lip quivers under my threat. “It’s going
to hurt so fucking much. Just like you deserve.”
 Stepping back, I gift my man a nod, and he spins the hammer in his
hand with a menacing grin.
“No, Luca. Please!”
“Like my sister told you no? Like she pleaded?” I tilt my head,
analyzing the monster. “I don’t think so, Maxim. I told you you’re learning
a lesson here.”
Then my man surges forward, ramming the hammer into him. He
withdraws it before languorously pushing it back in so he feels each and
every inch of the handle prying Maxim’s ass open. His eyes widen, his
mouth falls open, and he chokes, filling my body with approval. He fucks
his ass brutally while his screams penetrate the wall.
His body finally gives way, and my shoulders drop in relief.
I can walk from this room with my own demons expelled. My
punishment for my crimes has been having my heart torn to shreds while
his has been having his body ripped apart.
When I start my life again with my wife by my side, it will be safe with
the knowledge that the poison has been expelled.
I walk away from the basement with a determination to find my wife.
It’s finally time to become the husband she deserves.
It’s time to become Luca Varros.

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Chapter Forty-Nine

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Luca

A shrill buzzing cuts into my sleep, followed by a loud banging. I groan

as I turn my head over and cover my face with the pillow.
I don’t know what time I finally fell into bed, but I couldn’t have slept
without the aid of my bottle of scotch.
Since slowly dismembering my so-called brother over five weeks ago,
the only time I manage to sleep is when I fall into a drunken haze of
consciousness, and even then, it feels futile. Her face haunts me, the
disappointment in her eyes clouds my senses, and the feeling of freefalling
into a dark abyss without her makes me shout out to her in my sleep.
She’s the one good thing that shines through the depths of my darkness
and against my immortality. Gives me hope of something more. A glimmer
of a future with brightness in it amongst the world shrouded in gray.
My bedroom door swings open, and I groan at the bang against the
plaster.
“Luca. Get the fuck up. Oscar’s here. He has news.”
My head lifts as adrenaline pumps through my veins, giving me a new
lease of life. “And get a fucking shower. You stink,” Enzo throws over his
shoulder.

I stroll into my office as nonchalantly as possible. Oscar and Bren watch me

closely, and I fucking hate they know I have a weakness. My outrageous
demands over the past few months are a clear indication of it.
I sit down and sigh in Oscar’s direction as though I have better things to
do with my time. “Go on.”
 “The guy you saw Camille with at the charity event has been tracked
down. Tony Richards.” My spine shoots straight at this new information. I
knew they were far too intimate, yet she reassured me they were nothing of
the sort.
My hands ball into fists, and my jaw grinds to the point of pain.
“He was Christian’s lover.”
I stare back at him before throwing my head back on a mocking laugh.
How fucking ludicrous. Everyone knows you can’t be gay in the Mafia.
My head falls forward, and my eyes lock with Oscar’s serious ones,
then I glance at Bren, who nods confirmation.
“Gay?” The word comes out choked, and I turn to face Enzo, who’s
eyes are wide with equal surprise.
Oscar clears his throat and shuffles as though uncomfortable with what
he’s going to say next. “I should imagine the Riccis knew this. I have
medical reports proving there’s no way Christian Ricci harmed Eleanor.” I
go over what he’s saying. He’s uncovered the reports that I now have in my
safe. “But something tells me you knew this already?” he tacks on, leading
me to give him a firm nod.
Nobody knows my brother murdered my sister. As much as I’d like to
clear Christian’s name, I need Camille by my side when I do it. It needs to
be her to decide how and when it happens, and I’ll support her each and
every step of the way.
“Do you think she knew?” Enzo asks.
“Yes,” I reply. There’s not a doubt in my mind that she knew and stood
by her brother. Hence the chain. Never be who people expect you to be. The
only person you need to be is yourself. My heart hammers at the thought.
“They’d rather people believe he was a rapist than gay.”
“Exactly,” Oscar confirms, and I shake my head in disgust.
“I think he was due to meet Tony near the warehouse. We have camera
footage showing him waiting by his car looking agitated. At this point,
Christian was more than likely already dead.”
Dead. Due to him helping my sister. All this time, all this fucking
bloodshed in my quest for vengeance, and the guy was as innocent as can
be. Worse, he was a good man just like Camille said he was. A good man
that tried to help my sister until his dying breath.
I clear my throat when I’m unable to speak. “Any news on my wife?”
Oscar shakes his head. “Not yet. But we won’t give up.” Him and his
brother rise to their feet and head toward the door.
He stops and glances over his shoulder, and pity flashes over his face.
It’s not lost on me that this is the first time I’ve witnessed emotion from
Oscar O’Connell. The guy is a known genius but appears inept of emotion
at all.
“Sometimes we can’t find what we’re searching for in the dark.
Sometimes we’re stuck in the shadows, and when we step out into the light,
we can see a lot clearer. It’s time to step out of the shadows, Luca.”
He steps through the door, leaving me mulling over his words.
I take the chain from inside my pants pocket, drag my finger over the
inscription, and attach it around my neck, tucking it beneath my shirt. I feel
her closer to me and have a new sense of purpose.
It’s time to leave my darkness behind and step into the light. Her light.

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Chapter Fifty

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Luca

Three months later . . .

M y eyes roam over the small picturesque house, and I almost find
myself driving away. Giving her the freedom she longed for. The freedom
she deserves.
My heart hammers, it’s everything she’s dreamed of, and with me not in
her life, probably so much more now too.
Guilt has become a new emotion I’ve struggled to come to terms with.
Since uncovering the truth, I discussed matters with Lorenzo, who was just
as shocked and disgusted as me and Enzo. But we agreed to remain quiet
until Camille made the decision on how to play it, and I respect him for
that.
A lot of blood has been shed unnecessarily, and I can’t help but hate
Dario for giving over his niece like the sacrificial lamb to keep the peace
when he could have easily admitted his nephew’s preferences and stopped
the war from even beginning. Lorenzo reassured me blood was on their
hands as much as my own.
I could ask for forgiveness from the ones I’ve hurt, but truthfully, the
only one that matters is my wife. If she needs me to repent in some way, I
will, but I refuse to leave here without her by my side. No matter how
selfish it may be.
I spent hours replaying Oscar’s words to me. “Sometimes we can’t find
what we’re searching for in the dark. Sometimes we’re stuck in the
shadows, and when we step out into the light, we can see a lot clearer. It’s
time to step out of the shadows, Luca.”
 My head went over every conversation I ever had with her, I wanted no
stone unturned, and when it finally dawned on me to try a location near her
favorite ice cream store, my mind ran with all the possibilities. Oscar sent
me a list of possibilities, and when I saw the image of this property, my
heart surged with a feeling of longing. It’s everything she ever wanted.
Opening the car door, I step out. Birds are singing happily in the
fucking air like it’s a Disney movie, and I sneer up at the trees in their
direction.
I open the white picket gate and follow the cobbled path to the porch,
where I knock on the door with a tremble in my wake.
My body is full of nervousness, and I despise it. I wipe my sweaty
palms on my pants and straighten my jacket sleeves, hoping I look good for
her. Soft footsteps approach, and with each one, my blood pulsates, making
me dizzy.
She opens the door, and when our eyes lock, her mouth falls open and
her face pales. Fear flashes over her face, and she tries to close the door, but
I wedge my foot in place, stopping her. “Camille,” I breathe out at her lame
attempt to stop me getting in as I push open the door, and she stumbles
back.
Terror washes over her, and I try to remain calm at her obvious alarm at
seeing me. I’m not sure what I expected, but this reaction wasn’t it.
She backs herself up against the wall. Her lips tremble as she opens her
mouth. “Luca, please.” She shakes her head while my gaze roams over her
delectable body.
A hoodie covers her torso, but shorts expose her bare legs. I grind my
teeth at the thought of her dressed like this for anyone else but me. I curl my
hand into a fist.
“Luca, please.”
I take a step toward her. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I breathe out, a smile
gracing my lips as I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, finally exposing the
mark I’ve longed to see. Her eyes widen in shock at my tenderness, her
behavior the opposite of my own.
A strange noise comes from the room behind her, and she jumps in
response. Her eyes flash with fear, and my anger skyrockets. Does she have
a man in there? My shoulders bunch tight, and my nostrils flare. Is she
fucking around on me?
I push past her, and she grabs my hand, trying to pull me back,
convincing me more than ever that she has something to hide. Someone.
“I’ll fucking kill him!” I bellow, and she wails in response.
“Please, Luca. I’ll do anything. Please! I’m begging you.” The panic
behind her voice only angers me further as my blood rages with fury,
preparing to unleash at her terror-stricken tone.
I throw open the door, step into the room, and scan over the small living
space. A cooing noise draws my attention to a mat on the floor, and when I
step past the couch, my lungs feel like they’re collapsing.
A small baby lies on the floor in a blue romper, and he shoves his fist in
his mouth, gurgling. Black eyes stare back at me, and I choke on the
intensity of his gaze. A sob catches in my throat as my watery eyes take in
his jet-black hair. He’s fucking perfect.
I sense Camille behind me, but I’m frozen to the spot at the connection
with who is obviously my son.
“He’s mine.” I choke on emotion clogging my throat, the sound is
foreign to me.
My body jolts back to reality at the click of a gun and I realize Camille
withdrew the gun from my back while I was distracted.
“Camille,” I warn.
“I don’t want you to hurt him, Luca.” Her voice shakes.
Anger flows inside me. How could she possibly think I’d hurt my own
baby?
 “Camille.” I try again as the gun shakes against my head. Jesus, one slip
of her finger and it’s all over before I even got a chance with her. Her and
my son.
A sob breaks from her chest, and I want to pull her toward me and
protect her.
My throat is dry and scratchy. “Camille, please.”
“No. You’re going to try and change my mind, and I can’t allow you to
hurt him. I won’t, Luca.”
My heart aches for her, but it aches for me too. Because she genuinely
thinks I could hurt our child. “I wouldn’t,” I murmur, the hurt of her
accusation evident in my tone.
“I heard you. You said you wouldn’t allow me to be pregnant, let the
poison mix,” she spits, and my stomach rolls. I squeeze my eyes shut at her
words, the cruel words I once said now bitter. “I couldn’t allow you to hurt
him.”
“I understand,” I reply, licking my dry lips. “I was wrong, Camille. So
fucking wrong. And I’m sorry.”
She startles at my words. Probably shocked I apologized for the first
time in my fucking life and hopefully the last.
I keep my voice as soft as possible, which is fucking difficult, given
who I am. “Can I face you?”
“You’re going to try and get me to change my mind, and I can’t allow it,
Luca.” The wobble in her voice breaks me.
I sigh. “I know the truth, Camille.”
The gun presses harder into my head, and I grit my teeth in response.
“What truth? Your truth? Theirs?” She’s becoming hysterical, and it
only adds to my nervousness. She doesn’t want me dead. She’d have done it
already. I could tackle her, but I risk the gun going off, and I refuse to put
her and our son at risk.
 Adrenaline pumps around my veins with urgency at how the situation is
escalating. “Camille. I know the truth.” I try again. “Your truth. Christian’s
truth. I know that he’s innocent.” I’ve always struggled to say his name, like
acid on my tongue, but now I say it with a sense of pride at the young man’s
actions, and she must hear something different in my tone because the
pressure at the back of my head eases.
“H-how?”
“I went back. I went right back through every fucking conversation we
ever had. Every step you ever took. And you know what I discovered?” I
lick my lips.
“What?”
“I discovered you love ice cream so much you moved closer to the only
other store in the US.”
She chokes on a sob.
“Can I face you? I need to face you, Camille.” She’s silent, unsure of
my motivations, and I need to reassure her. “You can leave the gun on me.
I’m just going to turn around, I need you to see my face.”
She moves, and I imagine her nodding, but I wait for confirmation to
slip from her lips. “Yes.”
I have my hands up as I turn to face her.
Her face is red and crumpled, as though pained. Tears streak her cheeks,
and her arm wobbles as she holds the gun, and it guts me. I know I could
take her down with ease, but it isn’t about that. Not anymore. I need her to
want me to live, to know how I feel about her, and she needs to hear the
truth from my lips, the one that betrayed her and treated her so poorly.
Our eyes lock, and I could lose myself in the depths of hers. The
shimmer of her unshed tears is like the sparkles of the sea, and I could swim
in them, drown in her emotion. And I’d die a serene death, one of love and
truth.
 My throat clogs at how distraught she is, and I’ve never wanted to hold
a woman as much as I want to hold her now.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice overcome with all things I want to say.
Need to say.
A sob lodges in her chest, and she bends over slightly, struggling to
keep herself together. The gun now aimed at my chest instead of my head.
“I need you to know how sorry I am, Camille.” My eyes remain on hers,
imploring her with my sincerity.
“I retrieved the file.” Her spine bolts straight, and her eyes widen in
panic. She thinks I hurt the punk, and my jaw grinds in annoyance and my
blood floods with jealousy. “He’s fine.”
She looks relieved.
“Your brother tried to save her.” Her eyes flare, and she reels back
slightly. Clearly this is new information to her. “He became the scapegoat.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t know that. I . . . I thought someone
wanted to cause a rift between the families.”
I choke on the irony. My own brother caused the rift, and in turn, I
caused the fucking war.
“She was meeting someone to put an end to their relationship.” Her face
falls in understanding. “They hurt her.” She sucks in a sharp gasp, but I
ignore it and carry on. “It was Maxim, Camille.” Even as I say the words,
the pain lances through my chest at his betrayal. The very man I loved as a
brother. The cause of so much pain. So much hate.
She sways on her feet and drops her arm as her mind whirls with the
information.
“It was my own fucking brother.” My Adam’s apple bobs as I try to
control my emotions. “I’m sorry,” I add. “So fucking sorry.” Something wet
slips from my eye.
Her eyes meet mine once again, and the terror is now replaced with
compassion.
 But I need her to know how sorry I am, because my words don’t seem
powerful enough. I need to show her.
I lower to my knees.

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 CAMILLE

Luca Varros lowers himself to his knees. His eyes remain connected to
mine, and I know this is a pinnacle moment in our relationship. One where
a Mafia man has been brought to his knees by his wife. Unheard of.
My eyes roam over his handsome face, the sorrow and worry etched in
his features. The thought makes me tremble with a need to pull him toward
me, to bask in his warmth and hear the steady thrum of his heart. The dark
circles under his eyes are a clear indication to the stress he’s been under,
and I can’t help but wonder how much I’ve played a part in that or if it was
all Maxim.
I grimace at the thought of his brother. To hurt a woman that way is
despicable, to do it to a loved one is even harder to comprehend. My
brother was a pawn in his game, and my family allowed him to be to save
face of what they considered a weakness.
Luca kneels before me, and it seems ironic when he was always so
adamant I was the one to bow at his feet. Below him.
“I need you to know.” He licks his lips as his eyes shine with tears.
They remain on mine as though pleading with truth and conviction. “I need
you to know, Camille. I love you.”
My heart hammers on his words as they sink in. It swells with hope,
threatening to burst.
 “I love you so fucking much.” Another tear drops from the corner of his
eye. “I want to rewrite our story, Camille.”
My vision blurs with tears because I want that too. I want him to rewrite
us, love and protect us.
“Will you let me rewrite it?”
I fight for air, the words clogging on my tongue, thick and heavy,
powerful. “Yes.”
His head falls forward as sobs rack his body, and I can’t help but move
toward him, pulling him against me. I embrace him tight, as he does me.
“I love you too,” I whisper.

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Chapter Fifty-One

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Luca

I clutch onto Camille like my life fucking depends on it. I relish her
touch, her scent, but her words are what strike me so hard I become a man I
never knew I could be. I’m compliant and vulnerable. Of course I fucking
hate it, but I allow myself this moment and for her to see it too.
A small gurgling noise makes me freeze.
I clear my throat. “Can I hold him?” I pull back to look up at her. She
bites on her lip with uncertainty, and it pisses me off. “I won’t fucking hurt
him, Camille.”
She pulls back from me, and I miss her touch, craving her like an addict.
I stand, and alarm flashes in her face, and I realize I need to step carefully.
“I just want to hold my fucking son.” My voice is a controlled whisper.
Her shoulders slump and her eyes soften. “Okay.” The word is breathy,
but it means every-fucking-thing.
I turn and face the little guy who coos on what appears to be a playmat
with little mirrors attached to the colorful patches of fabric.
I’m unsure of how to pick him up. He’s so small and fragile looking.
“Could you hand him to me?”
An odd sensation of anxiety ripples through me as I take a seat on a
small couch.
My wife smiles down at the baby, and a pain hits me in the chest when I
consider I don’t even know my son’s name and age.
She lifts him into her arms, and her face lights up before she presses a
gentle kiss to his head.
“What’s his name?”
She freezes and moves him to cradle him in her other arm, the one
farthest away from me, but I don’t miss the action. My jaw tics.
“His name’s Christian.” She raises her chin and glares at me in defiance.
 My lip tips up at the side as I roll his name on my tongue. “Christian.” I
nod at her. “Good. I like it.” My eyes drill truth into hers.
“You do?” She crooks an eyebrow at me.
“He tried to save my fucking sister, Camille. Of course I approve.”
Her body relaxes as she approaches me with our son.
“I don’t know how to hold him.” My own fucking son and I don’t know
how to hold him.
“You never held Elle?”
I turn my lip up. “Of course fucking not.” Mafia men are not known to
be soft, especially unnecessarily, and she knows this.
“You’re being ridiculous, Luca. You’re going to have to make some
changes.” She adjusts my arms as she places Christian on me.
“I know,” I whisper as our eyes clash. Her hand finds my jaw, and her
touch sends a tremor through my body as love seeps from her eyes into
mine.
Christian wiggles, breaking the moment, and our eyes dart down to his
as he stuffs his fist into his mouth.
“How old is he?”
“Seven weeks.”
My heart constricts at the thought of missing my son growing inside
her, missing his birth and the first seven weeks of his life. I close my eyes at
the gut-wrenching pain that racks through me.
I stroke a hand through his hair, enamored at the similarities, and the
realization anchors me.
Camille takes a seat opposite me, and her eyes never leave us.
“Is he healthy?” I exhale on a shaky breath, trying to regain control of
my emotions.
“Perfect.”
I stroke over his soft, thick black hair and can’t help but smile with how
truly perfect he is. A loud cry erupts from him from out of nowhere, and I
jump with panic.
“What . . . what’s wrong with him?”
“He’s ready for feeding.”
I hold him tighter to me, determined to be the father he deserves. “I’ll
do it.”
“Luca. I need to feed him.”
My body coils tight. If she thinks she’s keeping me from my son any
longer, she can think a-fucking-gain. Anger erupts inside me.
“I can feed my fucking son, Camille.”
She stifles a laugh, and I glare at her in annoyance.
“I breastfeed him, Luca.”
I glance from her to Christian and back again.
“It’s what’s best for babies.”
Of course she wants what’s best for him. She’s an incredible person, and
my son is lucky to have her as a mother. “Of course. I’m sorry.” I rise from
the couch with Christian in my arm and hand him over.
“You’ve said sorry a lot today for a man that never apologizes.”
My lip quirks up at her sassy mouth. “Don’t get used to it, Camille.
You’ll be the one apologizing later.” I don’t miss the flare of desire in her
eyes as I take a seat and watch my wife feed our son.
It’s the most beautiful scene I’ve ever witnessed. Even more exceptional
than watching the warm blood pump from a man’s body spilling into a
mural of their demise.
My cock thickens at the sight of her skin, and my fingers itch with need
to feel the weight of her breast in my palm.
I watch as she feeds our son with a determination to witness every
milestone in his life and those of his future siblings.
I won’t miss a fucking moment of it.

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 CAMILLE

I place Christian in his crib and leave the door ajar before I make my way
into the bedroom. My body is drained, and I want nothing more than to
sleep, but when I enter the room to find Luca, my body comes alive as his
electric gaze roams over me.
Over the months of being apart from Luca, I’ve felt every emotion
possible. But as I stand here in front of the man who has ripped out my
heart and filled my mind with terror, I can’t comprehend the sense of
security being in his presence brings me, a complete contrast to how I’ve
been feeling for so long.
He holds out his hand, and I place mine in his, allowing him to pull me
toward the bed. He bends and places a kiss on my head as his other hand
holds the back of my neck. “Fuck, how I’ve missed you.” His admittance
has my heart soaring.
He pushes me onto the bed, and I allow him to. With my ass on the
edge, he unzips my shorts and slides them down, along with my panties. I
lie there, a compliant participant.
I lift onto my elbows, and he falls to his knees once again. Our eyes
lock in understanding; the moment feels euphoric. “I’m proud to kneel at
my woman’s feet, Camille.” He places a gentle kiss on the inside of my
thighs.
 Then he separates my legs, and I suck in a sharp breath when he
breathes in my scent. “Fuck, how I missed this.” Flattening his tongue, he
swipes from my ass up to my clit. My breath comes out sharp and ragged,
already feeling the tremendous pressure building deep inside.
“Luca.” I moan, tangling my fingers in his hair, earning a groan of
appreciation from him that sends a vibration through my folds. “Oh god.”
“Mmm. So fucking good.” He laps at my pussy, curling his tongue deep
inside as I grind against his mouth, edging toward my orgasm. His thumb
swirls over my clit as our eyes remain locked in a trance.
“Luca,” I warn. The pressure builds, and when he presses down on my
clit, my body curls tight, and my head drops back as I pant out my release.
“Fuck!”
My body falls lax against the bed as Luca strips off his clothes.
“Move up the bed, Camille.” His dark, commanding voice leaves no
room for objection as I scoot up the bed and lock eyes with his body.
His ripped muscles flex as he jacks his angry-looking cock in his fist.
My gaze travels up over the deep v on his hips and over his tattoos until I
stop on his chest where my brother’s chain lies.
“Luca?”
“I needed you close to me, Camille. I needed you so fucking close to me
all the goddamn time.”
I nod at his words as he crawls over my body. He positions himself over
me, his hands resting on each side of my head.
“Can you slip your top off for me? I need to see all of you.”
My throat cracks with nervousness. “I might leak.” I wince.
His eyes light up with need. “Fuck. Why the hell does that sound so
hot?”
I give him a playful swat, and he smiles in response as I lift my top over
my head and unclip the nursing bra.
 His eyes follow every movement, and his cock flexes against me with
appreciation. “Jesus, you’re incredible.” I bite into my lip with
embarrassment at how awestruck he seems at the changes in my body.
His fingers shake as he pushes the hair from my neck, exposing his
mark, and he dips his head and gifts it with a gentle kiss. I hold him there,
latching onto his hair.
“I need to taste you, Camille. All of you.” The need in his voice sounds
pained, and I’m unsure of what he means until his hand finds my breast and
he squeezes it, causing wetness to pool between us. His cock is wet and
resting on my pussy, and I buck against him, earning a low chuckle as his
mouth descends onto my nipple. I hiss at the contact and press him against
me when his lips close around me, sucking the milk from me. “Oh, fuck.”
He groans.
I raise my hips again, desperate to be filled. To feel him stretch me. “I
need you, Luca.”
He uses one hand to position his cock and slides inside me, the
tenderness excruciating and exhilarating all in one.
“Jesus,” he mumbles as he slides in and out with a controlled pace.
I squeak when he nibbles around my nipple, wince when he sucks the
flesh to leave a mark, and pant in pleasure when he feeds from me. The
pleasure and pain a show of his power over me.
“Fuck,” he exhales as his hips work quicker.
My body becomes tighter, like an elastic band ready to snap with the
intensity building with each glide of his hips and the deepness of his cock;
each ridge of it grazing my walls sends sparks of electricity through me.

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 LUCA

My wife’s body has changed to accommodate my son. My eyes roam over

every inch of her, drinking her in. Every mark and blemish pushes me
deeper inside, and it makes me more determined than ever to consume her,
to paint her inside and out with my cum, marking her as mine. To coat
every change in my essence. Every fucking change. I slam into her.
Her tits leak for me, and the taste on my tongue drives me wild with
need as I squeeze her tit in amazement. Watching her nipple drip with milk
for our son makes me want to fill her with a baby and not miss a single
thing.
I nip at the flesh and suck it into my mouth to mark it. I thrust harder.
I’ll paint her tits with my cum. I grind into her. Sweat coats my skin, and
the sound of our flesh combining and moans fill the room.
“I’m not on birth control,” she pants, and I drive into her harder. The
thought of her swollen with my child makes me feel feral.
I slam into her faster, desperate to fill her, pushing as deep as possible. I
bask in the wetness dripping from her, the way her pussy clenches and her
body tightens, the way her moans and whimpers slip from her lips each
time I grind on her clit.
“I’m not on birth control,” she says louder as her nails dig into my
shoulders. Fuck.
 I slam my lips against hers, and a loud growl rumbles from deep inside
me, causing her orgasm to shoot through her. Her pussy tightens, pulling me
in. My cock swells, and I surge deeper as cum shoots up my cock and into
her womb.
“Fuck, take it.” I grind harder. “Take all my cum.” I pant as my
movements stutter from the force. “Let me fill you with my baby.” Her
whimper vibrates through us, and I close my eyes, hoping above hope that
my cum has indeed created a baby, allowing me to witness her body change
to accommodate it.
Allowing me to be the man I want to be.
A father.
A husband.
I close my eyes.
Never be who people expect you to be. The only person you need to be
is yourself.

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 CAMILLE

Our bodies finally freefall, collapse together, and he rolls us for me to lie on
his chest, still buried deep inside me, and his cock twitches.
I lift my head from his chest and toy with the chain between my fingers
as I struggle to look at him. Knowing he came inside me without protection
makes me anxious of the potential position I’m putting Christian and me in.
“Camille. Look at me.” He uses his fingers to lift my chin to face him.
Our gazes lock. “I want you pregnant.” I stare at him dumbfounded, and
he elaborates. “I don’t want to miss a fucking thing this time.” His eyes
seep with truth, a love that I only ever saw a glimpse of before now at the
forefront of his features.
“Okay,” I whisper, and his lips tip up into a smile and his cock jumps.
“Just let me rest a minute.” I lay my head back down on his chest, and
he chuckles. My eyes latch onto a tattoo I’m not familiar with, and when I
read the words, my chest tightens in admiration.
Never be who people expect you to be. The only person you need to be
is yourself. Reading those words, I know the words he promises are that of
truth. I know I can trust him. I know he’ll rewrite our story.
I circle over the words as I raise myself to straddle him.
“In blood we’re bound. In trust we live, Luca.”
 He gifts me with a smile, and I smile back knowing our story is only
just beginning.
As if hearing my thoughts, his lips tip up into a rare smile. “Our story is
about to be written, Camille.”

THE END

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Epilogue

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Luca

Three years later. . .

I stare down at my wife’s ass. Tanned and streaked with my belt marks,
my cock leaks as I position myself behind her.
I wrap her hair around my fist while my other hand cups her pregnant
bump. “I’m going to fuck your ass, Camille.”
My hand moves to her clit, and when I give it a few strums, she pushes
back against me on a needy moan.
I spit on her asshole, and the action makes her whimper and causes me
to growl with need at the thought of punishing her. I remove my fingers,
and she groans in protest, earning a swift smack on her ass that makes her
jolt.
“Don’t be such a needy whore.”
“Luca, please.”
Jesus, she knows how much I love for her to beg me.
I drag my dripping cock through my spittle before aiming the head at
her asshole. I push in, reveling in her body trying to keep me out.
“Let me in, Camille. I’ll fucking take it if I want to,” I warn. She moans,
turned on at my filthy words. We’re the perfect creation of darkness and
light, creating a gray only we can understand.
I force the head of my cock inside her and hiss at the stretching of her
ass muscles around me. “Fuck, that’s good, little whore.”
“Oh god.”
I push in another inch.
“Rub your clit,” I grunt out while feeding her another inch,
painstakingly slowly.
 Her hand moves frantically, and her body tightens with her pleasure as I
push in fully. “Fuck, that’s it.”
I pull back, almost all the way out. Then I slam back in, having to take
hold of her hip to hold her in place as I tug her head back and pull her up to
her knees. She drops her head against my shoulder as I move one hand to
cup her bump and the other to tug at her nipple.
Her walls contract as I work my cock in and out of her while her hand
moves rapidly between us. Our combined pants and grunts of pleasure fill
the room.
Her milk drips from my fingers, and I bring them to her lips, forcing
them inside for her to suck.
“Such a dirty little whore for me.” Thrust. My hips move quicker.
“Dirty fucking whore.” Harder. “Come for me, Camille.” Thrust. My cock
swells. “Come for me!” I roar as my orgasm takes over and hers too. She
falls against me as I pinch her nipple between my fingers, and her mouth
drops open on a silent scream, careful not to wake the baby in the adjoining
nursery. I slap her pussy hard, earning a yelp as my cock floods her ass with
hot streams of cum and a gush of wetness flows down her thighs.
We heave in unison as we come down from our orgasm. “I think you
squirted.” I chuckle, pressing a loving kiss against her mark. “If we’re
really quick, I can lick you clean.” I pull out of her ass, and she rolls onto
her back, allowing me to drag her to the end of the bed where I kneel for
my woman.
While my tongue goes to work.
Only for my woman will I kneel.
Only for my queen.

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 Do you want more of Luca?

Sign up to my newsletter HERE, for an extended epilogue.

Do you want to know more about the O’Connell men from the wedding?
They are part of the Secret and Lies Series. You can read them here:

Secrets and Lies Series

CAL Book 1
CON Book 2
FINN Book 3
BREN Book 4
OSCAR Book 5
CON’S WEDDING NOVELLA

SECRETS AND LIES SHORT STORIES

CAL
CON
BREN

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Also by BJ Alpha

Born Series
Born Reckless

The Brutal Duet

Hidden In Brutal Devotion
Love In Brutal Devotion

STORM ENTERPRISES
SHAW Book 1

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 SHAW

Shaw, Luca’s brother-in-law also has his own book as part of the STORM Enterprises Series.
Available here:

STORM ENTERPRISES
SHAW Book 1

Shaw
Red dress, red lips, red heels. Red, the young woman I spent one night in Vegas fulfilling a need I
never knew existed.
By morning, she was gone, taking a part of me with her . . .
Until her demanding family quite literally slams into my life and leaves me with no other option but
to marry her.
They’re none too happy that I defiled the Mafia Princess promised to another man, and now, I’ve no
choice but to go along with their plans or risk not only my life but hers too.
Can we make this work in both our worlds, or will the perfect out be just that?
I never intended to fall for my wife, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t plan to fall for me either.
Emilia
I’ve spent my life being what everyone else wanted me to be. So I wanted one night. One night of my
choosing before I had to sacrifice myself for the Organization.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?
Wrong.
What happened in Vegas threw me a curveball, and my brother is demanding I marry the man I only
know as Blue.
But when he’s forced into our world and has no choice but to leave behind the woman he loves, can
he do it, for us?
Or will our demons catch up and tear our marriage apart?
I’m falling for him when all I should care about is keeping us safe.
I only hope he cares enough about us too.
Storm Enterprises is a stand-alone interconnecting series based on insanely hot billionaire best
friends.
The books are full of drama, steam, banter and are dark romance. Please check my website for
full details of sensitive subjects.

Shaw Book 1 is a Mafia/Billionaire crossover.

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 Acknowledgments

Tee the lady that started it all for me.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I must start with where it all began, TL Swan. When I started reading your
books, I never realized I was in a place I needed pulling out of. Your stories
brought me back to myself.
With your constant support and the network created as ‘Cygnet Inkers’ I
was able to create something I never realized was possible, I genuinely
thought I’d had my day. You made me realize tomorrow is just the
beginning.

To Kate, thank you for believing in Luca as much as I do.

Emma H, thank you for always being there.

Beta Readers
Thank you to my Beta Readers for all your help. Thank you for squeezing
me in with my tight deadlines and listening to me stress.
Libby, Jaclyn, Kate, Savannah and Tash.

ARC Team
To my ARC readers thank you.
You’re truly amazing and I appreciate each and every one of you.
A special mention to Lilibet James, who has gone above and beyond to help
me. Thank you so much.

To my world.
My boys, I hope you never get to feel true hate and live a life surrounded by
love.

To my hubby, the J in my BJ.

Love you trillions.

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 About the Author

BJ Alpha lives in the UK with her hubby, two teenage sons and three fur babies.
She loves to write and read about hot, alpha males and feisty females.

Follow BJ on her social media pages:

Facebook: BJ Alpha
My readers group: BJ’s Reckless Readers
Instagram: BJ Alpha

And don’t forget to sign up to BJ’s Newsletter for exclusive information and competitions.
Newsletter sign up.

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