A Touch of Fate

Copyright ©2025 Cora Reilly

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, events and places
are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

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Cover: Books and Moods

Photographer: Michelle Lancaster @lanefotograf
Model: Heath Hutchins
When Emma Mancini finds out the news of her impending
arranged marriage to Samuel Mione, a future Underboss and
one of the Outfit’s most sought-after bachelors, she is
hopeful for their future despite their age difference.
However, the never-ending gossip surrounding their union
and Samuel’s cold attitude extinguish that hope.
After an unfortunate decision made in the past, guilt and
bitterness are Samuel’s constant companions. He doesn’t
have time for emotional nonsense, and a bond to a woman
only adds another unwanted obligation.
Nevertheless, Emma isn’t someone who resigns herself to
her fate. She’s overcome much greater obstacles than a
cold husband determined to keep her at arm’s length.
Can Emma break through Samuel’s impenetrable walls? And
if she does, can she live with what she discovers?
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
About the Author
11 years old
Beep. Beep.
Followed by wheezing.
I felt like I was surrounded by cotton.
My body was numb, almost like that one time I’d touched
the glass of our fireplace and burned my fingers. For days, I
hadn’t felt anything in my fingertips. Now, my entire body
felt like that, not just my skin. A numbness existed in almost
every layer of my limbs, a thick fog of nothingness I didn’t
understand.
Beep. Beep.
Whoosh.
My hand felt heavy. I could feel that. It felt more
substantial than the rest of me. My eyelids were crusted
shut, and it took considerable effort to open them, but
eventually, the darkness was replaced by a white wall. My
eyes twitched to the left because my head felt too heavy to
move. Mom sat on a chair beside me, her head rested on
the mattress, and her hand held mine. That was the heavy
feeling.
Where was I? What was going on?
My mouth and throat felt painfully dry. I tried to swallow,
but something blocked my throat. My eyes flew open as
panic set in. I wanted to scream, but my mouth was blocked
too.
“Emma,” Mom said.
Our eyes met. Hers were filled with tears. I dragged my
hand away from her, and even that movement was
impossibly strenuous.
I reached for my face, wanting to rip away whatever
stopped me from swallowing, from talking.
From screaming.
I touched a strange tube. Mom gripped my hand and
gently pried it away. What was she doing? Why wasn’t she
helping me?
“It’s okay,” she said, but her voice betrayed her words to
be a lie. At the same time, she hit a button that started an
alarm. It shrilled in my head, so painfully loud I wanted to
cover my ears, but even that was impossible. A sound as
unbearable as nails on a chalkboard. The little hairs on my
neck rose, and even that small muscle movement hurt.
“This is your breathing tube, sweetheart. Don’t touch it.
The nurse will be here soon to take it out.”
I didn’t understand what was going on. Nurse? My eyes
took in my surroundings, the machine monitoring my
heartbeat and pulse, the breathing machine, the drip. Mom
squeezed my hand.
“Shhh,” she murmured. “Everything will be okay.”
But even as she said it, she began crying.
The door opened, and a nurse came in, followed by Dad
and my brother, Danilo. All of them hurried to my side. The
nurse began explaining what she’d do, but I barely listened.
Dad stroked my hand, but his expression told me something
bad had happened. And Danilo?
His face twisted with pain as if seeing me like this hurt
him. His brown hair was completely disheveled as if he’d
repeatedly run his fingers through it, and his white shirt was
crinkled. Crinkled. The situation was dire if Danilo didn’t
take care of his appearance.
I gagged when the nurse removed the tube, then
coughed. My mouth had a stale taste, and my throat felt dry
like I’d fallen asleep with my mouth wide open because my
nose was closed up. But worse.
Mom handed me a glass of water and pushed a button so
the backrest rose about halfway. I wanted to make it easier
and sit up, but my body remained unresponsive. My muscles
didn’t obey my command. I wanted to push into a sitting
position, but the cotton feeling still lingered in almost every
part of my body except for my left arm, my throat, chest,
and head.
Danilo and Dad exchanged a look that really scared me.
I cleared my throat, but my words were still stuck. I took
another sip of the water, then tried again. “Wha…” I
coughed.
“Drink,” Mom encouraged, her hand shaking as she
brought the glass to my lips again.
I shook my head. “What…hap…pe…pend.”
Something bad had happened, and nobody was telling
me anything.
Danilo finally stepped up to the bed while Dad sank onto
the other chair with a shaky groan. He was ashen, and his
brown hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in too long.
Usually, he was the one we visited in the hospital. He was
the one Mom cried over.
I frowned. Wasn’t he in the hospital? I tried to remember,
but my memories were murky.
Danilo touched my shoulder. I saw his fingertips resting
against my shoulder, but the touch was distant as if the
hospital gown was heavily padded.
I looked back up into his worried face.
“You were in a car accident. Do you remember?”
My brows puckered. I was at school…then I went home…
no. I went to my dance. My biggest role so far. The dance
went great. My bodyguard had taken me home because
Mom had been in the hospital with Dad for his cancer
surgery… and Danilo had to leave my play early.
I blinked at Danilo, confused. Then I glanced at Dad.
Mom had gone over to the window and was looking
outside.
“You’ve been in a coma for a couple of weeks.”
“I can’t feel my body.”
Dad closed his eyes, pinching the top of his nose.
Danilo sat on the chair that Mom had occupied before. He
took my hand, but he didn’t immediately start talking. When
he did, his voice cracked several times. “You had to be cut
out of the car, Emma. It was really bad. You suffered some
damage to your spinal cord.”
“Can I dance again?” I asked. I wasn’t even sure why it
was the first thing I asked. I’d sometimes wanted to quit
dancing because our teacher was never happy with me, but
now, the idea of quitting ripped a hole in my chest.
Danilo shook his head. “No.”
“Nothing’s set in stone,” Mom said quickly.
Danilo shook his head. “It’s unlikely she’ll regain control
of her legs again. Don’t give her false hope, Mom.”
False hope?
I tried to move my legs, tried to feel them, anything
below my chest, and when I couldn’t, panic set in again.
Danilo’s grip on my hand tightened. “Emma, we’re here
for you. You’re not alone. We’ll always take care of you.”
I closed my eyes. If I could have moved my hands, I
would have covered my ears too. I didn’t want to hear or
see any more. I didn’t even want to think. I just wanted to
wake up from this nightmare and feel normal again.
11 years old
I never walked without support again.
Things got better, though. Like Danilo had promised.
Within the first week of waking from my coma, I was able
to move my arms, and the feeling returned to the upper
part of my body. My arms felt weaker than before, but the
doctors assured me they would regain their previous
strength with training and as my body healed from the
accident and surgeries. My lower body didn’t recover the
same way, no matter how much I wanted it to and how
much Mom prayed. She always told me that it was
temporary, and I believed her. I needed to believe her.
Once I felt strong enough, Danilo and a nurse helped me
into a wheelchair. Mom started crying when she saw me in it
and left the room with a muttered excuse. I peered up at my
brother, who held on to the handles, his expression like
stone. His eyes met mine, and he gave me a tight smile. “I
don’t want to be in a wheelchair, Danilo. I want to walk like I
used to. I will walk again, right?”
Danilo stared at me for a long time, a muscle in his jaw
twitching, the only movement in his otherwise frozen face.
The nurse glanced between him and me, her brows pulling
together. She touched my arm, and I looked into her kind
blue eyes. “I know this is a lot to take in, Emma. And it’s a
little scary, but a wheelchair isn’t your enemy. It’ll help you
go wherever you want. There are wheelchairs for every
activity. They are lightweight and agile. You can play sports
with them and do a quick U-turn. You will be faster than your
brother if you get the right wheelchair. And if you prefer
more support, you can even get an electric wheelchair. Then
you can steer it with a single finger. Isn’t that cool?”
I knew she was trying to cheer me up, to make my
situation seem less daunting, but I didn’t want to know
anything about wheelchairs. I wanted my legs to carry me
wherever I needed to go. She squeezed my shoulder with a
compassionate smile. “Once your arms are a little stronger,
I’ll bring you one of our lightest wheelchairs so you can get
used to it, okay?”
I gave a tiny nod. The moment she was out of the room, I
sent my brother a pleading look. “I don’t want to get used to
a wheelchair, Danilo. I want my legs. Please.”
Danilo walked around the chair and got on his haunches
before me. He took my hands in his. “I’ll do everything I can,
Emma, to help you. I’ll look for therapies and doctors
worldwide who can help you, but I want you prepared. I
want you to learn how to use a wheelchair, and I’ll buy you
the best wheelchairs until you find one you like.”
I looked away from him. Why couldn’t he lie like Mom
did? Why couldn’t he say that I would one day walk again?
I had trouble maneuvering the wheels. They seemed stuck.
My fingers ached from trying to move them. This wheelchair
wasn’t easy to steer. It wasn’t lightweight. “It doesn’t work!”
Tears of anger and frustration burned in my eyes after
ten minutes of trying to move the light wheelchair the nurse
had brought me for practice.
“I think you accidentally engaged the brakes.” She pulled
a lever at the wheel, and I could move the wheelchair
forward, but as I tried to move it past the bed, my wheel got
stuck on one of the legs. I dropped my hands in my lap,
pressing my lips together firmly.
Danilo leaned against the windowsill and watched
everything with a stoic expression. Mom couldn’t bear
seeing me in a wheelchair, so she had left for the canteen
with her bodyguard.
“I need to go to the toilet,” I said tonelessly.
“Would you like me or your brother to help you? Maybe it
would be good if he learned how to assist you until you can
do it without help.”
My eyes widened in horror, and Danilo straightened with
a look of shock, torn out of the controlled calm he always
displayed around me. He quickly masked it and nodded
slowly.
I shook my head. “No. I don’t want Danilo to help me.”
My voice broke.
“Maybe your mother?”
Danilo’s mouth thinned.
“She won’t be able to handle it,” I said. Mom had to take
care of Dad, which was already incredibly tough for her.
 The nurse seemed at a loss. “Well, your family plans to
take you home in a week, so we need to figure out how to
help you.” She looked at Danilo. “Have you hired a private
nurse for her?”
Danilo glowered. “Our situation is special. We don’t
appreciate strangers in our home.”
“Then you’ll have to help her. Right now, she can’t do it
herself yet.”
Danilo walked toward me, but I shook my head. “No!” I
didn’t want my brother to help me undress so I could pee. I
didn’t want him to lift me on the toilet. I’d prefer to go back
to having a catheter before I allowed him to help me.
Danilo regarded me, but I could tell he wasn’t sure what
to do.
My despair rose at seeing him helpless. My big, strong
brother.
I swallowed hard. “I’ll practice every day so I can do it
myself.”
“You go home in just a week unless your family changes
their mind. Your body still has a lot of healing to do, Emma.”
She moved toward Danilo, and his expression became
hard. “Listen, I don’t know anything about your world. But I
know that your sister will need help in the beginning. Her
body’s been through a lot. Her scars need to heal, inside
and out. If she does too much too soon, it could set her
back. Either you hire someone who’ll help her or someone
from your family needs to do it. There are ways to preserve
modesty if that’s a concern.” She paused. “And your sister
needs a therapist. She needs to get grief counseling to
come to terms with what she’s lost.”
I swallowed hard. In our world, people didn’t talk about
going to therapy. Getting help for mental problems made
you look weak. But at the moment, I felt weak—body and
mind.
Coming to terms with what I’d lost… could I? Because
sometimes it felt as if I’d lost too much to bear.
 “My family will handle it,” Danilo clipped.
I tried to move the wheelchair back and finally got it
unstuck. My progress toward the bathroom was slow, and
my arms and hands tired quickly. The parts of my body that
I could feel ached despite the pain medication. Once inside
the bathroom, I froze. I didn’t have the strength to hoist
myself out of the wheelchair and onto the toilet seat. I
couldn’t even undress the lower part of my body without
help. I would have to lift my hips to remove the sweatpants
and panties, and that simply wasn’t an option—yet.
Danilo came in. I fought the urge to send him away but
lost my fight against the tears of frustration and shame. He
stepped up to me and touched my shoulder. “What can I
do?” His voice oozed utter control, but I could see the strain
around his eyes.
“If you grab me under the arms and lift me, I can try to
push my pants down.” The nurses had always done it, so I
wasn’t entirely sure if I could do it myself. “Then you’ll have
to put me down on the toilet.”
I closed my eyes, hating every moment of this.
“Will I hurt her?” Danilo asked the nurse.
“I’ll take a look, but it’s been five weeks since her
surgeries, so everything should be fine as long as you move
slowly and carefully.”
I opened my eyes to see Danilo looking at my face with
utter concern. He grabbed me under the armpits and lifted
me a few inches from the wheelchair. It hurt, mostly in my
hips and shoulders, but I stifled a noise. I reached down and
tried to push my sweatpants down, but the waistband made
it difficult. I couldn’t put enough strength behind the
movement because of my awkward position and tired
muscles. Eventually, the nurse had to help, and Danilo set
me down on the toilet seat. They both left, but it took me
several minutes before I could finally let loose.
I didn’t immediately call for Danilo when I was done. I felt
angry at my body for failing me, angry with the man who
caused the accident, and angry with the doctors who
couldn’t help me. But overwhelmingly, I felt utterly
heartbroken and sad. Nothing would ever be like I was used
to. How could a therapist change any of it? Would they
make me forget reality?
“Emma?” Danilo called.
“Come in.” My voice was small, and tears had started
streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t look up as Danilo came
in. His shoes appeared in my line of vision. He gripped me
and hoisted me up. I managed to pull up the sweatpants so
they covered me. Danilo put me down in my wheelchair. I
moved toward the wash basin and managed to turn the
water on while Danilo watched me. I cleaned my hands,
then leaned back in the chair.
“Progress,” the nurse said with a smile. I didn’t return the
smile.
Eventually, she left. Danilo pushed me back into the
bedroom, then crouched before me again. “Emma, you are
strong. Soon, you’ll be able to do this alone, but as long as
you can’t, I don’t mind helping you, okay?” I looked into his
eyes and gave a small nod.

Four weeks after I had woken up from my coma, I returned

home against the recommendation of the doctors. They
thought I should go to a rehabilitation clinic, but Danilo and
Dad weren’t confident that they could guarantee my
protection there. All my therapy sessions would either take
place at home or Danilo would drive me there.
When I finally came home, some feeling had returned to
my legs. In the beginning, it was mainly as a tingling like the
sensation of feeling returning to your limbs after falling
asleep, only that my legs didn’t “wake” up, and the tingling
felt more like a bothersome prickling. Despite the sleepless
nights that this insistent prickling caused at first, it was
better than the numbness of the first few days and weeks.
Entirely numb areas remained like my toes, and my calves
only signaled a sort of dull pressure when I put my weight
on them or something very heavy rested on them. Apart
from that, they didn’t register touch.
My home didn’t feel like a home anymore because I
couldn’t even get to my bedroom on the upper floor without
someone carrying me there. I couldn’t use the toilet without
help because there weren’t handles yet. The sinks were too
high for me to reach while sitting in the wheelchair. The list
was long. Apparently, Mom didn’t want the house to be
made accessible because that would equal accepting that I
would have to use a wheelchair forever. Dad was already
too poorly to bother getting involved in the argument. But a
week after my return, Danilo lost it.
“As Underboss of this city, my word is law, Mother, for
you and everyone else, and I’ve made the decision to turn
this house into a place where Emma feels welcome.
Tomorrow, craftsmen will arrive and start their work.”
Mom was stunned into silence, and I felt relieved. The
past few days had been a string of things I couldn’t do
because I couldn’t reach them with my wheelchair. It had
made me feel left out and helpless, even more so than in
the hospital.
Once the elevator was installed and everything else was
made accessible, I could move around the house without
constant help. Everything still took a long time, and the
shelves remained out of my reach, but I felt like I had
regained a tiny bit of my freedom. Of course, Mom or Danilo
was always home, but I felt a little more like my old self.
Every day, someone came over to do physical therapy
and massages with me, and eventually, even a therapist
visited me to help me cope. Despite Danilo’s aversion to
strangers in the house, the Outfit simply didn’t have
someone who specialized in helping someone with my type
of spinal injury.
They were the only people I saw except for bodyguards,
my family, and the doctors. Danilo wanted me out of the
public eye until I felt stronger. Sometimes I wondered if my
mental state was the only reason I spent my days at home.
I didn’t know how much of my condition was public
knowledge. Many of my friends had written in the first few
weeks after I woke up, but it soon became obvious that their
curiosity was the reason and not true concern or friendship.
Eventually, when I didn’t reveal more of my condition,
most of them stopped writing. Only my closest friend
Giorgia remained from my group of friends in Indianapolis.
She, however, treated me as if nothing had happened.
When she visited me the first time, two weeks after my
release from the hospital (Danilo hadn’t allowed her to see
me sooner), she walked straight past my concerned brother
and hugged me tightly as if nothing had changed. Her mane
of curly red hair tickled my face. She pulled back and smiled
at me, then looked at the electric wheelchair in one corner
of the foyer. I almost never used it. “Can I try it? I want to
know how it is for you.” She grimaced, then tilted her head,
her blue eyes flickering with worry. “Was that rude? My
mother said I should be careful not to be rude, but we’ve
been friends forever. I mean, you know how I am.”
I burst out laughing for the first time since my accident.
“You are you, Giorgia, and I don’t want you to act any
different.”
Giorgia sat on the electric wheelchair with her tongue
wedged between her lips as she tried to figure out how it
worked. I preferred the agility of my manual wheelchair.
Danilo stood a few steps from us. He hovered a lot during
the day, which meant he had to work at night. I wasn’t sure
when he ever slept. Giorgia let out a little screech when the
wheelchair suddenly surged forward, and she almost
collided with my brother. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
I laughed again. The sound felt foreign, and my ribs
actually ached.
“Whoa, this thing is fast.” She turned the joystick, and
the chair moved to the right, almost striking the staircase.
She sent me a wide-eyed look. “Is this made for racing?”
I bit my lip and shook my head. “It takes practice, but I
prefer this chair.” I patted my light, agile chair. She moved
the wheelchair back to the corner, then she stood.
I felt a pang and had to swallow hard.
Giorgia’s expression fell, her eyes softening. I guess my
face showed how much the sight of her simply getting out of
the wheelchair hurt me because it would never be like that
for me. My physical therapist had promised me we would
work with leg braces as soon as my body allowed it, but he
had also been very clear that with the damage my spinal
cord had sustained, the chances of me walking without
support ever again were almost nil.
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. She had nothing to be sorry for. “You
made me laugh for the first time in weeks.”
Giorgia came over to me. “I thought we could watch a
movie and eat popcorn?”
I nodded, so we moved upstairs to my room in the new
elevator. Danilo finally left us alone.
We usually watched movies on my bed. Giorgia plopped
down as usual, then sat up with an uncertain expression.
“Or do you prefer to sit on the sofa?” She motioned to the
sofa off to the side. I hadn’t used it since my accident. The
TV could be turned either way.
“No,” I said, then wheeled closer to the bed. I arrested
the brakes. I still had trouble getting from the wheelchair
into bed, even if it was a new, lower model. Giorgia watched
me as I tried to hoist myself into bed. After three tries, I
finally managed to land my butt in bed. I used my arms to
scoot backward until my back hit the headboard. Then I
leaned back and had to take a deep breath. My body ached,
and I felt tired from this brief movement.
Giorgia held the remote in her hand but hadn’t turned on
the TV yet. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
I nodded. I preferred talking to my therapist. It was easier
to share my darkest fears with a near stranger than with the
people I knew. “I want to watch a movie.”
Five minutes later, our maid appeared with a big bowl of
popcorn and glasses of Coke.
As Giorgia and I watched the movie, shoulder against
shoulder, I felt like the old Emma for the first time since
waking from the coma.

One day, a few months after the accident, when it became

clear that I’d never dance again, Mom threw away all my
ballet clothes.
I only knew because she hadn’t properly closed the
drawer where I kept my leotards, and when I checked, I
found it empty. I opened the other drawers with my ballet
clothes, but they too were bare. Everything had disappeared
without a word, without an explanation.
But I knew it was Mom. She’d sometimes mentioned how
much I had to miss ballet and that I’d certainly be able to do
it again soon. She’d probably been more devastated about
the end of my ballet career than me. Still, I felt sorrow as I
stared at the empty drawer. It symbolized another part of
my old life I’d lost, another door that ultimately closed for
me.
 I’d enjoyed ballet, the grace and discipline, the costumes,
the music, but it hadn’t been my dream—until it had been
taken from me. I would have loved to decide when I’d stop
on my own terms… but I didn’t have that choice. I’d have to
come to terms with it as I had to do with many other
changes in my life. In the beginning, life had felt like a chain
of things I couldn’t do anymore, but slowly, I discovered new
things that gave me moments of happiness. Doing things
with Giorgia and doing crafts like drawing, pottery, and
origami.
What I missed more than dancing was the freedom the
ability to walk gave you. I’d never realized how many stairs
my daily routine included and how high up many of the
things were that I needed on a daily basis. The first time I’d
entered the kitchen to grab a glass of water after I’d
returned home, I had been unable to reach the cupboard
and had been left staring at it until our cook came in and
helped me.
After that, she put glasses into a low cupboard so I could
get them. It wasn’t the last time I couldn’t reach something.
My family and I had to adapt to my new abilities. Step by
step, our home turned into a place where I could do many
things independently, but I knew that if I ever attended
social gatherings again, things would be a new challenge.

About two and a half months after my accident, I got the

first taste of what life with a disability meant in our
antiquated, traditional world, and this event almost let other
people’s inability to cope with my disability become the way
I also handled it.
 I had been engaged to the eldest son of the Cincinatti
Underboss since I was only four years old. Federico and I
had only met a couple of times, and I had never given our
bond more than a fleeting thought. Marriage was still a
distant concept because I didn’t care much about boys yet.
When Federico’s father came to visit without his son, I
immediately had a bad feeling.
Danilo had told me to stay upstairs, but I had been
utterly sheltered since my accident, and I finally wanted to
get a glimpse of the outside world, even if it was only
through brief small talk with Federico’s father. Danilo’s eyes
strayed to me as I emerged from the elevator when
Federico’s father entered. The concern in Danilo’s eyes
triggered my own anxiety. How would the man react to my
disability? He barely glanced my way when he came in, his
eyes passing me by without a single greeting. “I need to talk
to you and your father alone, Danilo. Without your sister.”
My grip on the wheels tightened, probably thickening the
newly formed calluses on my palms. I made myself smaller
under his continued disregard of me.
Danilo’s lips thinned, and the hard look in his eyes
indicated how fragile his controlled mask was. “Go ahead.
My father is at his desk. You know the way. I’ll join you in a
moment.”
Mom strolled out of the living room. Federico’s father
gave her a quick nod before he stalked down the corridor
toward Dad’s office.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked, pursing her lips. She’d
worn a nice dress and put her brown hair in a sleek bun at
the top of her head. “I prepared afternoon tea for all of us.”
“You should wait with Emma in the living room. I have a
feeling that things won’t be pleasant, and there won’t be an
afternoon tea.”
I frowned at Danilo, but he only smiled tightly at me.
Mom, however, had paled considerably at his statement.
 Mom and I moved into the living room and sat at the
coffee table, which our maid had filled with cakes and
cookies for our guest and us.
I bit my lower lip, then glanced down at my calloused
palm, tracing it with my fingers. I’d never had calluses on
my hands, only on my toes from going on pointe. The latter
had faded, and new ones had formed. Since my accident, it
often felt like my heart would need calluses too to protect
itself from what was to come.
“What do you think he wants?”
Mom’s eyes rested on my palms. “We need to make sure
your hands don’t look like this. It’s not pretty. Maybe you
need to use your electric wheelchair.”
I turned my hands over and cupped my thighs. “It’s too
big, and I don’t like the sound it makes.”
Raised voices silenced me. I tried to understand what
was being said, but Dad, Danilo, and Federico’s father
seemed to all be screaming at the same time.
One of our bodyguards entered with a curt nod and
positioned himself beside the door. He had taken over after
my old bodyguard had been removed. He’d caused the
accident because he was drunk on the job. I didn’t like
thinking about him. Sometimes I hated him for what he’d
done to me, and sometimes I felt almost guilty because he
was dead now and not from the accident. My brother had
killed him as punishment.
The shouting increased. Federico’s father appeared in the
foyer, but he never came into the living room. Instead, he
hurried toward the front door with a bright red face, looking
like he couldn’t wait to get away.
“Don’t ever contact me for help again!” Dad roared, then
started coughing horribly. The front door fell shut, and for a
few heartbeats, nobody said anything. Only Dad’s desperate
coughing and wheezing could be heard. Danilo appeared in
the doorway, his face red, his hair tousled, and he had a
thunderous look in his eyes.
 “What’s wrong?” Mom asked fearfully.
“They canceled the engagement!” Dad sputtered as he
appeared next to Danilo in the doorway, his face turning
increasingly red as well.
Mom rose from the sofa, her hand covering her heart as if
the words had broken it. “They can’t!”
“They can,” Danilo said quietly, his eyes on me, not our
mother. “These are extraordinary circumstances, so no one
will blame them, even if it’s absolutely dishonorable.”
Mom covered her face and began to cry bitterly. Dad
came in and wrapped an arm around her to console her
while I made myself smaller in my wheelchair, wishing I
could disappear like some people seemed to prefer.
The engagement was canceled.
Another part of my old life was gone. What would happen
now? Girls in our world needed to marry if they wanted to
be accepted. I wanted to be part of our world and have a
future in it like every other girl did, but would they allow me
that?
Danilo came in and touched my shoulder. “This isn’t your
fault,” he murmured. I tilted my head, wondering why that
was the first thing out of his mouth.
He grimaced, looking exhausted. “You know what I
mean.”
I swallowed and nodded even though I wasn’t sure. I was
confused and scared and sad. I was too many things at
once. “I do.”
I understood the meaning behind Danilo’s words, but
maybe not in the way he wanted me to. I understood that
people in our backward world thought something was wrong
with me now. They valued certain beauty standards that I
would never be able to fulfill.
“We’ll figure something out,” Danilo promised, squeezing
my hand. Mom sobbed in the background as Dad tried
consoling her.
 My brother held power. I saw it in the way people looked
at him. He’d certainly be able to make people act a certain
way around me, but he wouldn’t be able to change their
thoughts.

Mom hadn’t calmed down for a week, and Dad’s rage

lingered even longer. Danilo was too controlled to show me
what he felt. And me?
I had almost let the cancellation shove me back into the
dark hole I’d been stuck in for the first few weeks after the
accident. Even my therapist couldn’t pull me out. I’d felt
worthless, out of place, and lost. I’d thought the wheelchair
really meant the end of all my hopes. I’d thought I would be
shackled to it and saw it as a burden when, in reality, it
gave me freedom.
I had focused all my energy on physical training again, up
to the point of utter exhaustion. I had to increase my
painkillers to be able to work as hard as I needed to. I
wanted to force my body to comply with my demands.
After several months of intensive training, my legs could
hold me up for a few seconds if I held on to something.
Countless hours of rehabilitation had given me a tiny piece
of my old freedom back, but over time, I also realized that
no matter what I did or how hard I trained, I wouldn’t walk
without support like I used to. I would never comply with the
beauty standards of our world again. The effects of the
accident would always be visible in my gait, and I’d likely
have to always use a wheelchair. I’d reached the end of
what rehabilitation could do. My spinal cord wouldn’t
miraculously heal itself. Some damage would always
remain. It was the harsh truth Mom had wanted to hide from
me, the harsh reality that was no longer a dark prediction,
yet my daily life was harder to stomach for everyone around
me than for myself. Acceptance didn’t come easily. It was
more painful than the physical therapy, but its effects were
far more rewarding.
Twenty years old
I’d known Danilo’s face meant trouble the second I saw it.
He couldn’t accept that my twin Serafina didn’t want to
marry him. He still wanted her or someone he regarded as
equally worthy. I didn’t like the bartering that was soon
going to happen. Marriage wasn’t a romantic bond in our
world. It was a business commodity.
Danilo gave me a brief nod as he entered the house. We
were about the same age, but we’d never spent much time
around each other, not just because he lived in another city.
Dad, our Capo Dante, and Danilo gathered in the office of
our home. Everyone looked tired and annoyed. The past few
months had been tough on all of us. Too many things hadn’t
gone to plan. My chest tightened when I thought of my own
failures—one had led to my sister being kidnapped and the
other had cost three friends their lives. Losses were
constant shadows in a Made Man’s life, but this past year
had been more than I’d bargained for.
Danilo released a long-suffering sigh as if his whole
fucking world had been shattered. He hadn’t even known
my sister well. For him, she’d been a trophy. For all I cared,
he could just find another trophy wife and stop his bitching.
“My father insists I’ll marry someone from your family. A
bond between our families is necessary, especially at this
time.”
Dad sighed, looking tired and defeated. I wished he’d put
more of his burden on my shoulders, but I also knew why he
didn’t. I had to prove myself again, and I would.
“Serafina won’t marry. She needs time to heal,” I
growled. If he thought we’d force her to marry him after
what she went through, he was delusional. I’d kick his posh
ass if he didn’t stop insisting.
Dante slanted a warning look at me, obviously sensing
my agitation. I swallowed my fury to let him handle this.
Maybe he had a better suggestion. Why not give his
daughter Anna to Danilo?
“There are other options,” he drawled.
Danilo looked ready to explode. “What options? I won’t
accept the daughter of any other Underboss. My city is
important. I won’t settle for less than was promised!”
Dante scowled, blue eyes flashing with anger. “Watch
your tone, Danilo. I realize this situation is difficult, but I
expect respect nonetheless.”
My pulse raced with pure fury, and it wasn’t easy to hold
back. Too much anger had gathered in me in the past few
months. “You can’t have Fina!”
“You can’t have Anna either,” Dante said.
“You need my support in this war. You need a strong
family at your back.”
“Is that a threat?”
“That’s a fact, Dante. You’re a good Capo, but I insist I
get what my family deserves. I won’t settle for less.”
 “I won’t force Fina into a marriage, not after what she
went through,” Dad said.
Dante nodded. “I agree.”
“We’re at an impasse, then.”
Finally, Danilo got one thing right.
Dante gave Dad a look I didn’t like one bit. We were
family, which was apparent by the blond hair we shared, but
this wasn’t a favor between relatives, this was a Capo’s
demand.
“Is that what you ask of me, Dante?”
“Pietro, if we follow the rules, Danilo could demand to
marry Serafina. They were engaged.”
“I will give you Sofia,” Dad said after a moment.
I balled my hands to fists, unable to believe what was
happening. Maybe I should have seen it coming.
“She’s what, eleven?” Danilo asked in distaste.
“Twelve in April,” I muttered. What were we doing here?
“I’m ten years older than her. I was promised a wife
now.”
“You’ll be busy with this war and establishing your reign
over Indianapolis. A later wedding should be of advantage
for you,” Dante said.
“Danilo?” Dante asked when he didn’t react.
“I have one condition.”
I straightened. I could tell that whatever Danilo asked of
us would be too much, but at this point, we didn’t have
many options other than going into an open conflict with his
family, which Dad didn’t want.
“What condition?” Dante asked.
Danilo looked at me, and I almost laughed. What did he
want now?
“He marries my sister, Emma,” Danilo said.
Surprise washed over me, though I should have expected
it. “She’s in a—”
“In a wheelchair, yes. Which is why nobody of worth
wants her. My sister deserves only the best, and you are the
heir to Minneapolis. If you all want this bond, Samuel is
going to marry my sister, and then I’ll marry Sofia.”
Emma was around my sister’s age. I only knew who she
was because of her wheelchair and the dishonorable story
with Cincinatti. Many people in our world didn’t consider her
good marriage material. It was a disgusting fact, but our
world was cruel, especially to women, who were mostly
regarded as a commodity to make deals. And now Emma
and my sister would be the ware in one of the more fucked-
up arrangements. “Fuck. What kind of twisted deal is that?”
“Why? Your father has been testing the waters for
possible brides, and my sister is a Mancini. She’s a good
match.”
If it took this to give my family peace, then I’d do it. A
marriage wasn’t about love. It was a duty. I tried to recall
her face or any interactions I might have had with her, but
our age difference was simply too great. “I’ll marry your
sister.”
I felt a moment of anger that Danilo had forced my hand,
and I didn’t have a say in choosing my future bride. Dad
looked relieved. He and Mom didn’t need more troubles, and
the Mancinis could definitely cause us a lot of trouble.
Marriages were almost always arranged in our world, so
I’d never expected to fall in love. My bond with Emma was
no different, yet the way the agreement had come to be left
a bitter taste in my mouth. If the girls found out how we’d
weighed them against each other, they’d probably hate us.
And for good reason.
Nine months later
I followed the same path as I did whenever I found spare
time. Today, on the first anniversary of their deaths, the
weight resting on my shoulders felt heavier than on the
previous days. The family crypts of my friends were all in
the same cemetery and only a few steps from each other. I
always began with Arlo, then moved on to Enea before I
finally reached Domenico’s last resting place: a small house
made from white marble and closed by cast-iron gates that
harbored generations of Domenico’s family. He was by far
the youngest to have found his rest here, and considering
his death, I doubted it was peaceful.
The gate creaked when I opened it and stepped into the
dark inside of the crypt. Dankness and dust crawled into my
nose. Several grave lights cast their eerie reddish light on
the slots in the walls where the bones of Domenico’s
ancestors rested, and he too would eventually find his last
rest in one of them. Now, his mortal remains still lay in a
massive coffin positioned in the very center of the vault,
with the saint Mother of Christ casting her benevolent eyes
on him. He’d never been laid out. Everyone had said their
last goodbye to the shiny oak instead of a waxen face.
Flowers covered almost every surface of the coffin. Some
of them were fake, but the others looked fresh, as if they’d
been put there only this morning. My family had sent a
generous amount of cash to all three families, and
Domenico’s mother seemed to invest it in flowers. I knew
she visited daily and had done so since the funeral a year
ago. I’d seen her several times during my visits but had
always avoided her. She didn’t need the additional anguish
of seeing the man who was responsible for her son’s brutal
murder.
Our first encounter after Domenico’s death, when I’d
confessed to her why he’d died and apologized, still haunted
me. Her anguished cries, her knees giving in, how
Domenico’s uncle held her up.
I touched the coffin briefly. “I’m sorry, my friend.”
I uttered the same words every time, but they felt as
hollow as on the first day. Feeling sorry for something that
couldn’t be changed was wasted time, especially in our
world where death was a constant companion. I’d been to
countless funerals, and many more would follow.
Domenico’s mother had driven me away from his wake with
curses and slaps. I had allowed her to hit me several times
before I’d taken my leave, knowing the pain she’d inflicted
wasn’t nearly as potent as the pain she felt.
Steps crunched behind me, and I tensed, my hand going
to my gun in the holster around my waist.
“I knew I’d find you here,” Renato said.
I lowered my hand, relaxing as my best friend
approached me. He crossed himself, then briefly touched
the coffin.
“It still feels surreal,” he murmured.
I smiled bitterly. Surreal wasn’t the word I would have
used. Renato and I had often spent the weekends with Arlo,
Enea, and Domenico. Now, it was only the two of us.
“Today is one year, right?” Renato asked.
I nodded. He wasn’t certain. I hadn’t been able to think
about anything else these past few days leading to the day
when I had ripped three sons from their mothers.
Renato let out a sigh. “You need to stop feeling guilty.”
“I am guilty.”
Renato gave me a frustrated look, his dark-brown brows
pinching together. “You didn’t kill them.”
My lip curled, but my stomach became hollow like it
always did when I remembered Enea’s death. “I stabbed
Enea.”
“Not on purpose, for God’s sake, Samuel. They were
Made Men. We all are. Death is always a possibility. Many
die young. Do you think Dante cries himself to sleep every
night over his soldiers who have died on the missions he
sent them on?”
I glanced at a photo of Domenico leaning against the
coffin’s bottom. He had his arms around Renato and Arlo.
Enea was beside Arlo, and I had been beside Renato in the
photo, but I wasn’t now. Someone had cut me out. I didn’t
blame them. “There’s a difference, Renato. I wasn’t their
Capo. I was their friend, and they were doing me a favor.
They trusted my plan, and I failed them.”
Renato shook his head. “They knew of the plan before
you went to Las Vegas. They thought it was a good plan. I
would have followed you there too if I hadn’t been in
Chicago.”
Three of my friends had followed me, no questions asked,
to save my twin sister from the hands of our worst enemy.
Renato wasn’t dead like the others because he’d been on
another mission in Chicago with his father so he couldn’t
join me.
“Come on, let’s have a drink. You need one.”
One drink wouldn’t be enough. I followed Renato out of
the crypt and closed the gates. We went to our favorite bar
and settled in one of their VIP rooms on the red satin
armchairs with lion-clawed feet. I ordered a Negroni, my
poison of choice, and took a big gulp. I let my head fall
against the headrest and briefly closed my eyes.
Arlo’s shocked face flashed before my eyes as he died by
Remo Falcone’s knife. He was gone in a blink, the kindest of
all three deaths.
Then it was Enea’s face that popped up. His expression
was a mix of surprise and pain when my knife buried itself in
his stomach. My face had probably mirrored the same
emotions. My stab had been aimed at Remo, but he’d pulled
Enea up by the collar and used him as his shield. Enea
hadn’t died right away. It took a few painful gasps and
intakes of breaths before he passed away. I wished I could
have held him in his last moments, but I’d fought for my life
against the madman from Vegas.
And the last one…Domenico’s face materialized before
my closed eyelids like a grotesque wax figure from a horror
cabinet. Even in death, his face had been twisted with
agony from hours of torture by the hand of the Falcones.
Most of my nightmares revolved around him. I’d been
witness to torture before and had been tortured myself, but
rarely any of it replayed in my dreams. Yet seeing a friend
being tortured to death because he wanted to help me?
Fuck, that haunted me every night and sometimes by
day too. I doubted that would get better, even as the years
passed. My foolish plan had robbed my friends of the
chance to marry, grow old, and have a family.
And had it brought me Serafina back? I didn’t save her
that day, and later, when she’d finally returned to us, I’d
realized that truly saving her from Falcone’s grip was
impossible.
“How’s your sister?” Renato asked after a while.
I opened my eyes. “Always tired. The twins suck the life
out of her.”
Renato shook his head. “Still can’t believe she kept
them.”
It was a topic we’d discussed plenty of times before. I
nodded but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to think of
Remo Falcone’s offspring, not on a day when I mourned the
friends he’d killed. It was difficult because they looked
exactly like him, and nothing like Fina, who had blond hair
and blue eyes like me.
“I’m going to marry Danilo Mancini’s sister,” I said
casually. The agreement had happened nine months ago,
but I’d kept it to myself so far.
Renato sat up straight in his chair, his brows shooting up.
“Wheelchair girl?”
I scowled. “Emma Mancini is her name, and I expect you
to treat her with the necessary respect, considering she’s
my future wife.”
“Sure, but how did this happen?” Renato opened his
arms, palms pointing my way, demanding an explanation.
“It’s a deal between Danilo and my family.”
“Don’t tell me that happened back when Sofia was
promised to him?”
I took another sip from my drink before I nodded. Renato
leaned forward and shoved my knee so hard that I almost
spilled my Negroni.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me before?”
“Too much going on. It didn’t seem important at the
time.”
Renato scoffed. “Not important? You’re talking about the
woman you have to spend the rest of your life with.”
“It’s still a while before I can marry her.” I shrugged.
Renato mimicked my shrug with a pissed expression. He
shook his head and sank back against the headrest.
“Really?” He shook his head again. “Fuck. That’s hard.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Come on, you could have married anyone, and you get
the girl who Cincinatti left at the altar.”
“They canceled the engagement, Renato. There’s a
difference.”
“They canceled the engagement because she’s in a
wheelchair, Samuel.”
“That was dishonorable and tasteless,” I muttered. “I
can’t see why her being in a wheelchair gave them the right
to cancel the engagement.”
“Yet most people got it and would probably have done
the same if their only son had been promised to the girl.”
“I won’t leave her at the altar,” I said matter-of-factly. I
didn’t know anything about Emma, except that Sofia liked
her very much and that she was apparently very kind.
“Sometimes you’re too honorable for your own good.”
I emptied the rest of my drink. I wouldn’t have chosen
Emma for various reasons. Her wheelchair was one of them.
But not in the way Renato probably suspected. A wife in a
wheelchair was another level of responsibility I didn’t want
to have. Fuck, I’d gotten three good friends killed. Being
responsible for anyone, especially someone as vulnerable as
Emma, wasn’t something I was really keen on. And there
was the matter of needing to create an heir at some point.
As the eldest son and future Underboss, I was expected to
produce offspring. If rumors could be believed, Emma
wouldn’t be able to give me any. But that was a worry for
the future, and I never made a habit out of trusting rumors
anyway.
Renato nudged me again. “Don’t get lost in your shitty
thoughts again. Let’s have a few more drinks and then go to
a club to let off some steam.”
Getting shit-faced sounded like a good plan.
14 years old
“You look marvelous!” Giorgia crooned.
I bit my lip, feeling really pretty in the dress I’d picked for
her brother’s wedding. It was one of the few social
gatherings I’d attended since my accident. The last time
had been Dad’s funeral. The stares or obvious attempts not
to stare at me had made me feel very anxious back then.
Remembering that day caused a flood of anxiety inside me.
The past
“I wouldn’t want to be in Danilo’s shoes,” someone
whispered. “A grieving mother, left by his future wife, and
responsible for taking care of a disabled sister.”
My face heated. I wondered if people thought I was deaf.
Since I was in a wheelchair, it happened often that they
didn’t lower their voices around me. They cast what they
considered inconspicuous glances at me.
 I bottled my anger up like I’d been taught to as a good
girl. I wanted to scream and rage, and sometimes I wanted
to hide and cry. Currently, I felt like doing the latter.
I still couldn’t believe that Dad was dead and we’d buried
him this morning. Now people had gathered in our home to
eat and drink and gossip. It was horrible, and I wished I
could disappear.
A couple came my way, and I couldn’t get away before
they cornered me.
“Hello, my dear, we’re so sorry that your dad’s gone to
heaven.”
The words themselves might have been okay, but the
woman spoke to me as if I were three. Another thing I
detested. Some people thought I was mentally handicapped
because I couldn’t walk. “I doubt Made Men go to heaven,” I
said defiantly but instantly felt guilty. I hoped Dad had found
a place in heaven, or at the very least his peace. But these
people made me so angry.
Danilo appeared by my side and touched my shoulder. At
once, the couple talked to him and ignored me, and I was
glad for that.
When they finally disappeared, Danilo met my gaze. “Are
you okay?”
“No,” I whispered.
Danilo nodded. “Stay strong. In a few hours, they will be
gone, then it’s only us.”
“If your stupid ex-fiancé could see you now… Maybe we
should send him a photo.”
My heart clenched, remembering the soul-crushing scene
of his father coming to our house to cancel the engagement
and how it had made me feel. How small and worthless. It
had taken months to move on but not because of my ex-
fiancé—losing him hadn’t hurt. He had been a stranger after
all. That day, I felt like I’d lost any chance at a happy future.
 Eventually, I found a routine in my home that made me
forget about the restrictions I often encountered outside or
at other people’s houses. Whenever my family was invited
to a dinner, Mom fretted over accessibility weeks before the
actual event. Of course, she’d never inquire with the hosts if
I could access everything. She didn’t want to bring attention
to my disability as if someone could actually miss it.
Sometimes I wondered if she was embarrassed of me. I
didn’t dare ask, and she never said it outright. I wished she
would treat my disability and my wheelchair with more
casualness. If she showed others that it wasn’t inconvenient
or even embarrassing, perhaps people would treat me
normally. Mom’s inability to stand up for me made me
equally angry and sad.
If Giorgia hadn’t taken matters into her own hands, the
hotel where her brother’s wedding took place wouldn’t even
be aware of my disability.
I knew it was hard for Mom. Our society made it hard for
her. It was a world ruled by old-fashioned, powerful men.
Men who valued three things in women: beauty, child-
bearing qualities, and innocence. In their eyes, I couldn’t
fulfill the first condition. I liked my face and body. Both were
pleasing to look at but not flawless in how they were defined
in our mafia world.
The moment I entered the wedding location that day, I
was reminded of our world’s bias.
It was strange how an accident, how me being in a
wheelchair, changed the way people perceived me, even
people who’d met me before.
Suddenly, most gazes passed me by as if looking at me
directly made them uncomfortable. And those who still
dared to look at me always averted their eyes with an air of
embarrassment and almost guilt as soon as I made eye
contact, as if I’d caught them doing something indecent. As
if they felt guilty for being able to walk when I couldn’t. It
made me resent our world and wonder if I could ever really
belong in it.
That they were looking wasn’t indecent, but I could
imagine that their thoughts made them feel guilty and
unable to return my gaze.
I wasn’t stupid, and despite what some people might
think, I wasn’t deaf either. I heard them whisper loudly
about what a shame it was that a beautiful girl like me was
in a wheelchair. They made it sound as if my being in a
wheelchair stole my beauty from me. Even at fourteen years
old, the enormity of their judgment already hit me hard.
In a world where women were solely judged by their
beauty and their child-bearing qualities, I was regarded as
less.
Less beautiful than a girl who could walk freely on her
own legs. Less in so many more ways I didn’t want to waste
a moment thinking about.
Most days, I managed not to think about the many
hurdles I’d have to face in our world. But on days like today,
it was hard.
Over time, I’d forced myself to readjust my hopes and
expectations. Would I ever walk freely again? No. Would I
marry? Probably not. Today, as I watched the married couple
do their first dance, sorrow and wistfulness hit me full force,
and I allowed myself to feel both for the duration of the
dance.
I had erased hopes of my own wedding from my mind as
much as it was possible.
The moment the dance floor opened for everyone,
Giorgia was ushered toward her brother to dance with him. I
watched her with a small smile, fighting the desire to move
toward the dance floor and dance. Giorgia and I had full-
fledged dance-offs at home, but I had never danced in my
wheelchair in public.
“Would you prefer to leave?” Danilo murmured.
 I quickly shook my head because I wanted to be part of
our world. I wouldn’t hide.
Giorgia met my gaze across the room and motioned for
me to come her way.
My eyes widened. By now, the music had switched to fast
pop songs. When I didn’t follow her invitation, she hurried
toward me with a grin and held out her hand. “Let’s dance.”
I let her pull me along toward a corner of the dance floor,
then she released me and began to jump and twirl to the
music. I could see people watch her with raised eyebrows
over her display of careless joy. Giorgia was curvy, too curvy
by our beauty standards, but it didn’t stop her from enjoying
herself. Emboldened by her confidence, I moved my
wheelchair to the music until everyone else faded into the
background.
I’d carve out my own bubble of happiness.

16 years old
Danilo was tense. Tenser than usual, that was. Since Dad’s
death, he’d constantly been on edge. I still remembered a
more easygoing Danilo, but that had been way before Dad’s
death, before his fiancée had been kidnapped and then later
run off with her kidnapper.
We moved into an accessible executive suite in the best
hotel in Minneapolis a day before my brother’s engagement.
The view over the Mississippi River and the city was
spectacular. The hotel had two bigger suites, but they
weren’t accessible, so we chose this one, and it offered
enough space for us. Danilo had to sleep on a sofa bed
because the suite only had one bedroom. The carpet was
very fluffy, which made moving along with my wheelchair a
bit strenuous and gave my arms a good workout.
Danilo’s face was hard, almost foreboding. Not the face
of someone excited about his engagement. His second
engagement, this time to Sofia, his ex-fiancée’s little sister.
She was only a month older than me. I really liked Sofia. She
was kind, and she still talked to me like she did before my
accident.
“Are you excited?” I asked him.
He looked up from his phone, where he’d no doubt been
checking work emails. “Excited?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes with a teasing smile. “About your
engagement.”
Danilo shook his head. “I don’t see why I should be. This
is my second engagement, and I’m only concerned about
making it to the wedding this time.”
I hoped he didn’t share his thoughts with Sofia. She
struck me as an emotional person who seemed quite happy
about her bond to my brother. “I would be excited if this was
the day before my engagement.”
Danilo put down his phone, reluctance passing across his
face. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I wheeled closer. “My sentiments toward an engagement
that’s probably never going to happen?” The moment the
bitter words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. I didn’t
like it when I turned bitter. That Cincinatti had broken our
families’ promise that we’d marry had stung, and my
options were slim, but my happiness didn’t depend on
marriage. At least, I tried to tell myself this as often as
possible, especially now that I was at an age when most
other girls were already promised. Sweet sixteen. I wasn’t
sure who’d invented that term, but they’d probably never
heard the jibing comments of older female relatives who
made sixteen sound like the tipping point before you turned
rotten and unmarriageable. I often felt left out. When girls
my age talked about how guys checked them out, I always
felt a pang. I’d had boys give me flirty looks before, but they
hadn’t been part of our world where everyone just seemed
to look at my wheelchair and not the person inside. It
frustrated me, but I wasn’t sure how to change people’s
perception.
“No,” Danilo said slowly. He stood and squatted before
me like he often did when we had something unpleasant to
discuss. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what was going on.
“The Miones and I came to an understanding.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. Sofia was a Mione, but I didn’t
understand his strange behavior if this was about his
engagement to Sofia.
Danilo met my gaze and took my hands. Now I was really
concerned. “Pietro, Samuel, and I agreed that you would
marry Samuel.”
Samuel Mione.
Future Underboss.
Ice prince.
I had only talked to him once, and the memory washed
over me like an icy flood.
Samuel and his father attended Dad’s funeral like all
Underbosses of the Outfit. Samuel stood out from the crowd
with his blue eyes, blond hair, and tall frame. Many girls
fancied him. Now he looked tired, with dark shadows under
his eyes and a haunted expression on his face. Ever since
his sister had run off to join the Camorra, he’d looked like
that. It must have been hard for him.
He and his father shook hands with Danilo before they
turned to me.
“My condolences,” Samuel said, meeting my gaze. He
was one of the very few who looked me in the eyes. Most
people seemed uncomfortable to do so—either because of
my grief or my wheelchair. In most cases, it was probably a
combination of the two.
“Thank you,” I said softly. I considered telling him I was
sorry about his sister, but I wasn’t sure if that was a good
idea. Danilo always got grumpy when I mentioned her, and I
had a feeling Samuel felt even worse, considering it was his
twin.
Samuel nodded, then returned his gaze to Danilo. The
tension between them was palpable. It had gotten much
worse in the past year, but Danilo refused to discuss it.
I stared at my brother in the present. My heart began
pounding, my ears closing off, my throat feeling tight.
Samuel was a good catch, a great catch. Most people in our
cruel mafia world would even go as far as to say he was too
good a catch for me.
Sometimes I caught myself mimicking those horrible
thoughts. Not because I believed that I was worth less
because of my wheelchair but because the people in our
world thought so.
Women were judged by their, if possible, flawless beauty.
To think of a disabled woman as beautiful was unheard of.
People’s sight reduced itself to the device supporting me,
not the body it held. It wasn’t my job to make them see
reason.
Even as a child, I’d heard and understood the whispers
when Cincinatti had broken off things. People had pitied me
because I was disabled and doomed to be alone, but nobody
had really blamed Cincinatti’s Underboss for wanting the
best for his son, which apparently wasn’t me, and protecting
him from a childless future at my side.
And now the Miones, now Samuel had chosen me as his
wife?
“Why—” I cleared my throat. “Why did he choose me?”
Danilo frowned. “Aren’t you happy?”
Was I happy? I didn’t think so. First of all, I was
overwhelmed and suspicious of the arrangement. “Why?”
Danilo pulled his hands away, then got up and perched
on the sofa next to me. “Because our families are both
important and—”
“Please don’t say it’s to strengthen our bond.”
His mouth twitched in a ghost smile that was gone before
it could really manifest. “It’s one reason, of course. It’s
always been done this way. You know that.”
“I also know that our families are already bonded
because of your engagement to Sofia, and I know I’m not
the most sought-after bachelorette on the market. It doesn’t
make sense for Samuel to choose me unless he hopes to get
bonus points for marrying a cripple.”
“Emma,” Danilo growled, “don’t use that word.”
“I can call myself whatever I want,” I said firmly. I hated
the word with every fiber of my being, but it got my point
across.
“Samuel wants a good, caring wife, and that’s what you’ll
be. He doesn’t care if you’re in a wheelchair.”
I wanted to believe that, but doing so would have been
foolish, and I didn’t like being a fool.
“Just be happy, alright? This is good for you. You have a
bright future ahead of you with an important husband and a
family of your own.”
Most of all, Danilo wouldn’t have to worry about me as
much as he would had I stayed a spinster. Maybe he would
even have felt obligated to let me live under the same roof
with him and Sofia. It was better this way—definitely for
Danilo and for me too. Annoyed, I wheeled back until I could
turn around. “I need some water.”
“I can get—”
“I’ll get it myself,” I said, moving toward the small
kitchen area of the suite. I opened the minibar and took out
one of the tiny San Pellegrino bottles. I could practically feel
Danilo’s questioning gaze burning into my back as I emptied
the bottle in a few gulps, not even bothering with a glass.
My annoyance had barely lessened, but I knew I had to
continue this conversation. With a sigh, I put the bottle on
the counter, then returned to my brother, who honestly
looked confused by my reaction.
Had he thought I’d be overjoyed?
Maybe I should be happier? I promised myself not to
doubt Samuel’s decision. “Does Mom know?”
“Of course. She’s delighted. We both are, Emma.”
Of course, she was. She’d been deeply worried that I’d
end up alone. Spinsters were looked down upon in our
world.
“When will it be announced?” I asked. The news would
spread like wildfire, and people would spread rumors just as
quickly. This was a bond nobody had expected, and thus, it
would be dissected until it was a tattered, dirty thing.
“Tomorrow after my official engagement to Sofia.”
My eyes grew wide in alarm. “You’re going to announce it
at your engagement party? What does Sofia say to that? It’s
her day, after all.”
“I didn’t ask her. It seems like the best time. After all,
we’re here, and it doesn’t make sense to travel all the way
to Minneapolis just for an announcement. Samuel and I are
both busy.”
“Danilo,” I said in exasperation. I couldn’t believe he
hadn’t asked Sofia. “I don’t want to hurt Sofia’s feelings.”
His puzzled expression made it clear that the thought
hadn’t even crossed his mind. “It’s just an announcement.
And it’s not like it’s our wedding day. Don’t overthink this.
Just be happy. In two years, you’ll be Samuel’s wife.”
I forced a smile. “Thank you.” I could tell Danilo was
disappointed by my lackluster reaction, but I couldn’t think
straight. “I’m going to bed so I’m well rested for my big day
tomorrow.”
Danilo pressed a kiss to my cheek like he always did, and
I wheeled into my bedroom. After a deep breath, I moved
into the bathroom to change into my nightgown. I arrested
the brakes of my wheelchair, then pushed myself up and
scooted down to the edge of the seat. Twisting to the right, I
used my left hand to shove down my skirt, then did the
same with the other side until the fabric pooled at my feet. I
lifted one foot after the other, then bent down, picked up my
skirt, and put it over the vanity chair. I removed my
pullover, then pulled my nightgown over my head. Grabbing
the handles, I pushed myself up, supporting myself with my
legs until the nightgown slid down over my bum before I
dropped back into the seat of my wheelchair. When I was
done with my evening routine, I returned to the bedroom.
The mattress was softer than what I was used to at
home, so my hand sank in when I tried to slide from my
wheelchair into the bed, almost causing me to slip down. I
caught myself and released a sigh. Traveling days were
always hard on my body and mind. For one, they gave me
anxiety. I always felt physically drained in the evening of
such a day, meaning my legs were less capable of
supporting my weight.
Once I lay in the dark, I couldn’t fall asleep for hours. My
thoughts kept revolving around Samuel. I couldn’t deny it.
He would have been my top choice if I could have chosen a
husband from the available bachelors. I didn’t mind that he
was eight years older. I actually preferred it. Maybe it was
because of my accident, but I was more mature than boys
and even girls my age.
 Not to mention that I found Samuel attractive. Really,
who didn’t? Many girls in our world talked about his looks.
There weren’t many blonds around, and his blue eyes
always sent a pleasant shiver down my back. And he was
tall and fit…
I bit my lip.
Our interactions after the funeral were pretty much
nonexistent except for a few shared pleasantries here and
there. I didn’t know him, not that I had expected to know my
husband. That just wasn’t likely in our circles. I only knew
things about him, mainly from Danilo or the occasional
snippet of gossip. Samuel had been a favorite topic ever
since his twin sister’s kidnapping and his failed attempt to
save her. His entire family had been dragged down the
gossip hole.
Maybe that was why the Miones had agreed to the
marriage. Perhaps they thought it would turn the rumors
more favorable or finally drag the attention away from their
daughter who now lived with the enemy Capo in Las Vegas.
Even if that option wasn’t really an ego booster, it was
better than the alternative: that Danilo blackmailed Samuel
in some way. I loved my brother, but he could be ruthless.
I sighed and closed my eyes. It didn’t stop my thoughts
from whirring, but eventually, I fell asleep.

I’d chosen the more festive of the two dresses that I’d
brought. A berry-colored floor-length cocktail dress that
accentuated my waist and covered my legs. I was still shy
about them even though they apparently weren’t different,
albeit less muscled than someone who used them for
walking. A small origami four-leaf clover I’d folded this
morning sat beside me in my wheelchair, hidden under my
skirt. I hoped it would bring me luck today. I wasn’t very
superstitious in daily life, but I liked to use additional luck
bringers for special occasions. I’d also hidden another four-
leaf clover in the inside pocket of Danilo’s jacket. Knowing
him, he’d need all the luck to make his marriage to Sofia
work.
The home of the Miones wasn’t accessible, but they’d
installed a temporary ramp so I could reach the front door.
The open doorways, spacious rooms, and smooth marble
flooring allowed me to move easily through the mansion.
When I entered the living room by Danilo’s side, my eyes
immediately sought Samuel, hoping for something that
would ease my worries, but he didn’t look my way. He was
in conversation with his father and seemed oblivious to my
presence. I was impossibly nervous—not just about talking
to Samuel but also about everyone’s reaction to the
announcement.
As usual, he looked incredibly good in a dark blue suit
that brought out the blue of his eyes even more. I tried to
imagine seeing those eyes gazing upon me with love, but
the image always distorted before it could fully form.
When it was time for our announcement, my stomach
was knotted. Danilo gave me a brief smile before he and Mr.
Mione addressed the guests.
Mr. Mione cleared his throat, then clanged his knife
against his wineglass. “We have another announcement to
make. Danilo, would you?”
I could see the confusion on Sofia’s face and cringed
inwardly. I really wished Danilo had talked to her before, but
I didn’t feel like it was my place to do so.
“It is with great honor that I’d like to announce that our
families, the Miones and the Mancinis, will further our bond.
Samuel will marry Emma the same summer as my wedding
to Sofia takes place,” Danilo said in a festive tone.
 I held my breath, feeling my cheeks heat under the
sudden attention.
Samuel stepped up to my side, gave me a quick smile
that was tense and definitely not joyful, then lightly touched
my shoulder. A pleasant shiver passed through my body at
the contact. Samuel smelled wonderful, and his fingers felt
warm and strong.
The reactions of the people in the room ranged from
open shock to utter disbelief or even blatant
incomprehension. Only Mom looked absolutely delighted.
Soon, the first people came over to congratulate us.
While Dante and Valentina and even Anna and Sofia seemed
honest, soon other guests appeared before us that had
trouble hiding their true emotions. I could see their
astonishment over the announcement. Some looked almost
displeased as if this bond went against their belief system. I
forced my face to remain pleasant and accept their
congratulations as if they weren’t fake. I didn’t dare look up
at Samuel, embarrassed by people’s demeanor that he
certainly must have picked up on too.
I even picked up the occasional tidbit of whispered
conversation.
“It’s a shame.”
“He’s such an attractive man. What a pity.”
“Maybe they’ll pay a surrogate, or he’ll get a mistress
pregnant.”
The last one made my eyes burn with unshed tears. I
risked a glance up at Samuel. His hand still rested lightly on
my shoulder, but he hadn’t said anything. He narrowed his
eyes at a couple who didn’t hide their disapproval of the
announcement, causing them to lower their faces at his
silent reprimand. It made me feel a bit better.
He leveled his gaze on me. His expression was
emotionless and completely controlled. “Are you all right?”
he asked quietly.
 “Of course,” I said quickly. I didn’t want him to think I was
soft and breakable, even if I often felt that way at moments
like this.
He gave a terse nod, his eyes slanting to the next couple
of congratulators.
The Miones approached us when the attention shifted
back to Sofia and Danilo. They smiled at me, but while Ines
looked genuinely happy, Pietro seemed more restrained.
“Congratulations,” Ines said and bent down to kiss my
cheek and hug me lightly. She was a woman who still turned
many heads with her shiny blond hair and elegant
appearance.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mione,” I said softly.
“Please call me Ines. We’ll be family in two years.”
I flushed and nodded. Pietro shook my hand. I hadn’t
really expected a hug from him. I knew him as a restrained
man. “Call me Pietro.”
“Thank you,” I said again. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I
still hadn’t processed what had happened. Ines gave
Samuel a warm smile, but I also caught a hint of worry in
her eyes. Was it because of me?
“I hear that you participate in an organization that raises
money to help other people with disabilities?” Ines asked.
I was surprised she knew. I never talked about it, mainly
because people didn’t show any interest in my life after my
accident. I nodded. “Yes. We also created a support group
for Made Men with disabilities.”
Pietro and Samuel exchanged a look that made it clear
they thought it unnecessary. Many men were too proud to
consider seeking help for any problem. But quite a few Made
Men lost limbs, their vision, or the ability to walk or hear. It
was a dangerous life, after all, and many considered
themselves less of a man when they were disabled in some
way. Suicide wasn’t uncommon among men after such a
tragedy. Some still favored death over what they considered
living an unworthy life. As a young woman, it was difficult to
make an impact on these men, but we had a pastor who led
the meetings.
Ines and I chatted a bit more about my charity work
before she and Pietro went over to Dante and his wife again,
leaving me alone with Samuel once more.
I gave him a hesitant smile, wishing I could talk to him as
easily as I’d chatted with his mom, but I was completely
tongue-tied with him. My thoughts just kept revolving
around how the engagement came to be. Maybe he’d tell
me one day. Though I wasn’t sure my heart could take it.
After several moments of awkward silence between Samuel
and me, he asked in a polite voice, “Do you need anything?”
His twin sister had always been called the ice princess, but
he was certainly an ice prince, as gorgeous and cold as one.
His question was probably innocent, but I couldn’t help
but think that he wouldn’t have worded it that way if I
weren’t disabled. Maybe he would have asked if I wanted a
drink or if he could bring me anything, but asking if I needed
anything made it sound like I couldn’t get it myself. “No, I’m
fine.”
Another couple came our way. I quickly plastered a smile
on my face.
When the attention and fake congratulations got too
much, I headed for the restroom. Luckily, there was one on
the ground floor, as there wasn’t an elevator in the house. I
could only hope that it would offer enough space for my
wheelchair. I opened the door. It was a spacious bathroom,
but even so, my wheelchair wouldn’t fit inside.
To my relief, the distance between the door and the toilet
wasn’t too long, and there was the sink and the doorknob I
could hold on to, so I should be fine. I briefly considered
asking Danilo to help me with the wheelchair, but he’d been
in conversation with Dante and Mr. Mione, and I didn’t want
to ask for help in front of so many people.
“Do you need help?” Samuel asked, making me gasp. I
hadn’t heard him approach, but he stood a few steps behind
me in the lobby, regarding me with a frown.
Samuel was the last person I wanted help from. I didn’t
want him to think he had to become my caregiver—which
he probably already did—because that wasn’t the case. I
could do things on my own, even if it sometimes took a bit
longer than it would for others. All that stopped me from
being completely independent was inaccessible local
conditions.
I quickly shook my head, my cheeks flushing. Samuel’s
brows pulled together, and I wanted nothing more than to
bolt. Part of me wanted to scream in frustration. Mrs. Mione
appeared behind her son, and now I really wished the
ground would swallow me. I hoped no more people would
join them.
“Let me have a word with Emma, okay?” she said to
Samuel, who nodded and returned to the living room,
probably relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with me. People
often acted awkward around disabled individuals. I
remembered how Danilo had initially treated me for lack of
knowing any better and out of a feeling of helplessness. But
now? He knew exactly when I needed help and what to do to
make things easier for me.
Mrs. Mione smiled kindly. She was a breathtakingly
gorgeous woman with a natural elegance that few
possessed. “I’m sorry we don’t have a more accessible
bathroom.”
 I shrugged with a small smile. “Few people do. Don’t
worry.” I knew that not every place I’d visit in the future
would be accessible. It was something I took into
consideration. When we visited other houses, I often didn’t
drink anything before or during the trip to avoid having to
use the bathroom, but I’d been too nervous today.
Mrs. Mione approached me, peering into the bathroom
thoughtfully. “Do you want me to push you in, and then I
could help you…”
“I can go in myself, but it would be great if you could
remove the wheelchair so I can close the door. I’ll call you
once I’m done and need it again.”
“Of course,” she said, but I could hear the hint of
hesitation in her voice. People were always worried about
doing something wrong.
I wheeled into the bathroom, then gripped the
washstand, which was a solid marble surface on a wooden
table. It could easily hold my weight. When I pulled myself
out of the wheelchair to stand, I noticed Mrs. Mione’s
surprise. Many people thought that my using a wheelchair
meant I couldn’t use my legs at all. I rarely bothered to
explain the details of my condition to them. Most people
preferred to remain in their prejudiced bubble anyway.
Mrs. Mione waited until I stood safely before she removed
the wheelchair and closed the door.
After I was done and had washed my hands, I called her
again. She carefully opened the door and peeked in as if she
worried that I might not be decent. I gave her a smile and
returned to my wheelchair, wishing my mind would come up
with something to say to stop the embarrassing silence.
Mrs. Mione backed away to give me room to exit the
bathroom.
“Thank you for your help, Mrs. Mione.”
She shook her head and gently touched my shoulder. “I
told you to call me Ines. Hearing that name makes me think
of my mother-in-law. And I’m glad I could help you.”
 I didn’t like to ask for help, but in instances like this, I was
glad I hadn’t refused her.
Her eyes moved to something on the ground, and she
bent down, picking up the small origami clover I must have
dropped. She regarded it curiously, then peered up at me.
“Is this yours?”
“Yes. I crafted it this morning for a little extra luck.”
“Wow. You did this? It’s gorgeous.”
I smiled. “Thank you. This is an easier piece. I started the
hobby shortly after my father’s death. I needed something
to keep busy, and pottery turned out to be too much of a
mess for our housekeeper.”
“You’ll have to show me one day.”
“Of course, Mrs. Mione.”
Ines raised her eyebrows.
“Ines,” I said with a hint of embarrassment for calling her
by her last name again. It was strange to think she’d be part
of my family in two years. It still hadn’t sunk in that I was
going to marry Samuel.

Today’s celebrations were the reason I rarely enjoyed

attending social events anymore. The backstabbing, fake-
smiling, lies-spewing way of many people in our world
brought out the rage I tried to keep in check. Which was of
course hypocritical of me, considering I gave them the same
fake smile while I killed a considerate number of them in my
head, especially after how disgusting some of them had
reacted to the announcement of my engagement.
I went out into our backyard after I’d left Emma with my
mother in front of the guest bathroom. The moment I was
outside, I took a deep breath. I’d kept up my pleasant mask
inside, especially with all the other Underbosses in
attendance. Well, not all of them. Cincinatti hadn’t been
invited. Danilo had insisted they stay away after what they
did to Emma. I didn’t really care about their attendance.
A hand touched my shoulder, and I tensed briefly before
Dad came into view. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag
before he stared up at the darkening sky and blew out the
smoke.
“Don’t let Mom see you.”
“She’ll smell it on me. She always does,” he said with a
small smile. “Once life’s less stressful, I’ll give it up.”
“When’s that ever going to be the case?”
“One day,” Dad said, then chuckled as if he’d made a
good joke. “Did you want to be alone?”
I shrugged. I had wanted to be alone, but Dad knew when
to be silent. His presence hardly ever bothered me. “I don’t
mind.”
Dad regarded me from the side. “A wife has to make you
feel at home. Everything else is fleeting, but that feeling of
coming home whenever you see someone? That’s what
matters.”
“I told you I’m okay with the marriage. Emma is a pretty
girl, and I’m sure she and I will get along.” I gritted my
teeth. “But I have a bad track record with people who
depend on me, and she’s more dependent than others.”
“Nobody could have protected your sister, and your
friends…they were Made Men. They could take care of
themselves.”
I nodded. “I should go back. I don’t want to leave Emma
alone.”
It was a surprising thought, but I definitely felt protective
of her. I turned and went back inside. Emma was talking to
Anna and Sofia, so I decided to go to Renato instead, who
was talking to the future Underboss of Columbus, Cosmo. I
nodded at them both.
Renato clapped my shoulder.
“This came as a surprise,” Cosmo said. I could see the
curiosity in his eyes. If he thought I’d give him any details
about why the arrangement came to be, he hadn’t paid
much attention to my reputation.
“I prefer to keep my cards close to my chest.”
Renato smirked.
“A noble thing…” He kept droning on and on, but I mostly
ignored him. The verdict over our engagement was pretty
clear. People didn’t understand and even openly
disapproved. I didn’t care. But even now, I could see how
uncomfortable Emma felt.
“She doesn’t look like she hit the jackpot with you,”
Renato murmured.
Everyone thought Emma should be ecstatic about this
bond, a bond that saved her in many people’s eyes, but
Renato was right. True delight definitely wasn’t visible on
her face. But I couldn’t tell whether this was because of
people’s tasteless whispers or because she didn’t want to
marry me.
I was eight years older than her. Maybe that was an
issue. I strode over to her. “Do you have a moment?”
“Of course,” Emma said, her cheeks turning red as she
followed me. I led her out onto the patio of our backyard.
People would still be able to see us but not hear us.
Emma peered up at me with an uncertain smile. I sat on
one of the chairs so we’d be at eye level. I didn’t want to
stare down at her the entire time.
 Her smile became a bit broader, but she sobered
considerably when I didn’t smile in return. I glanced out over
our vast backyard, wondering what I was doing. “Danilo told
you yesterday?”
She peered down at her elegant fingers. She still needed
a ring. This announcement had come sooner than expected,
and my mind had been far from thoughts about weddings or
engagements these past few years.
“He did last night.”
“It must have come as a surprise.”
She smiled strangely down at her hand as if trying to
imagine herself with a ring but couldn’t. “It did. A day isn’t
much time to prepare for an engagement you didn’t expect.
You had more time, I suppose.”
She peered up then, and her brown eyes searched mine
as if she were testing her statement’s truth. I assumed
Danilo hadn’t revealed when we’d struck the deal since it
would raise too many questions. Obviously, she was wary of
how the engagement had come to be. She had every reason
to be, but she would never find out the distasteful truth
from me. For one, it would crush not just her but also Sofia.
And I didn’t really see how the truth would help anyone in
this case. “Indeed, it didn’t come as out of the blue for me
as it did for you.”
Emma nodded, then she shrugged. “It’ll have sunk in by
our wedding. Two years is a long time.”
“It is.”
“A lot can happen before then,” she said in a strange
tone. Her eyes became distant as if she remembered
something. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking
about Cincinatti. Maybe she worried I’d change my mind
and cancel our engagement, but I had no intention of doing
that. From our short interactions, I could already tell that
Emma was pleasant to be around, and she was very pretty.
“That’s true, but some things won’t as of today.”
 She tilted her head curiously but then glanced back out
toward the backyard.
“You don’t look happy with the engagement.”
“And I should definitely be happy, considering
everything.” Her voice had taken on an almost petulant
tone.
I frowned, not sure why my words had affronted her. I
pushed my hands into my pockets. It was strange thinking
that this girl, then woman, would be my wife, my
responsibility for the rest of our lives. I’d grown up with a
strong sense of protection toward my twin sister, but she
was gone—part of which was my fault. I wasn’t sure how I
felt about being responsible for Emma. She’d already
suffered a lot in her short life. Her tragic accident and her
father’s death. Being married to me wouldn’t be the
blessing and gift so many people believed it to be.
People judged me by my looks and my standing. They
saw the shiny outside, not the abyss beneath the misleading
outer layer.
“Are you?”
I slanted her a questioning look.
“Happy, I mean.” Her voice had become painfully quiet.
“Since when has happiness ever been a deciding factor
when it comes to marriage in our world?” I asked. I didn’t
want to lie to her and pretend this engagement made me
ecstatic. Emma flinched. I considered saying something else
to soften my words, but everything that came to mind
would’ve sounded fake.
“It’s for the good of our families.”
She gave a small nod. “For the good of our families.”
One year later
17 years old
I hadn’t really dared to dream about this day, but I could
finally pick out my wedding dress today.
Mom had already cried twice before we even set foot in
the bridal store in the afternoon. Anna and Sofia joined us,
as did Giorgia. She was the only one from my old group of
friends I still met with. Most of the others had become
estranged in the months after the accident. I had known
many of them from ballet, and since I didn’t dance
anymore… I didn’t want to dwell on it.
While I wasn’t as close to Anna and Sofia as Giorgia, I
was still happy for their presence. If I’d had to go alone with
Mom, this day would have quickly become strenuous.
When Mom and I entered the store, the sales associate
gave me an encouraging smile, which had quite the
opposite effect. Did she think it would be difficult to find
something for me?
Luckily, Sofia and Anna were already there, perched on a
plush white sofa and having champagne. Anna got up first,
dressed in a plaid miniskirt and over-the-knee boots, and
came over to hug me. “I’m so excited for you.”
I grinned, then motioned at her glass. “They ditched the
drinking age for you?”
Anna gave me a coy smile, her blue eyes twinkling with
mischief as she tossed her sleek brown hair over her
shoulder. “I’m resourceful.” She turned to the small side
table and filled two more glasses with champagne while
Sofia hugged me. I almost asked her how things were going
with her wedding planning, but I had a feeling that wasn’t
the best topic right now. Things between her and Danilo
seemed to be tense for whatever reason.
Anna handed me a champagne flute. “Here. Have a sip.”
Mom’s eyes widened in alarm when she stepped in,
followed by the sales associate. I wasn’t sure what they’d
had to discuss behind closed doors. Mom had probably
preselected wedding gowns for me to try on. If I let her,
she’d tell me what to wear down to my underwear.
Anna strode toward Mom and handed her the remaining
flute with a conspiratorial smile. “We must celebrate today,
don’t you think, Mrs. Mancini?”
Mom was immediately lost to Anna’s charming ways.
Sofia rolled her eyes to the heavens and exchanged a look
with Anna before we all clinked glasses. I took a sip from the
bubbly liquid and felt a buzz spread through my body. I had
been allowed to drink alcohol only twice before, so my body
reacted immediately. But I was glad for the pleasant warmth
and the way it soothed my nerves.
“Your friend Giorgia’s still missing, right?” Anna asked as
she plopped back down on the sofa and threw one elegant
leg over the other. I felt a brief pang but immediately
shoved the notion aside.
 “That girl has her priorities wrong,” Mom clipped. “She’s
probably still having breakfast.”
Heat traveled up my throat on Giorgia’s behalf.
I was about to say something when Giorgia stumbled in a
couple of minutes later, looking flushed and her long red
hair all over the place. Her older brother gave me a brief
nod before he disappeared without a word. She gave me a
big grin and hugged me.
“She could be such a pretty girl if she just lost all that
extra weight,” Mom whispered.
I gave her a warning look. “Mom.” I hated when people
said I would be pretty if I wasn’t in a wheelchair, and Mom
did exactly the same with Giorgia now.
Giorgia was curvy, definitely more curvy than was
deemed acceptable in our world. Women were supposed to
have a model figure, and I didn’t mean plus-sized models
who slowly conquered the runways. Our world still only
regarded skinny women as beautiful. The judgmental nature
of our world often made me resent it, but it was the world I
knew, and I couldn’t imagine leaving it.
Giorgia scanned the display of dresses before she sank
down beside me in an armchair. “You’ll look gorgeous in all
of these dresses. They are stunning.”
“We can come here when you marry.”
Giorgia gave me an amused look. “I don’t think that’ll be
happening any time soon, and they don’t have dresses
above size six here.”
“Oh,” I said. “We’ll find something.”
“Today’s your day, Emma. Pick the dress of your
dreams.”
“Maybe something that’ll distract people from her
wheelchair,” Mom said with a fretful expression.
Giorgia widened her eyes comically. I just shrugged. Mom
didn’t mean to hurt me. She wanted me to experience
things “like normal people do” as she once said to me. I
didn’t have the courage to tell her that I’d feel normal if she
didn’t treat me like I was not.
Luckily, the sales associate paid more attention to me
than Mom’s constant comments.
I was nervous when I wheeled into the changing room to
try on the first few dresses. “Do you need help?” the sales
associate asked.
“I’ll help her,” Giorgia quickly said before Mom could do
so. She stepped into the changing room with me and closed
the curtain.
I gave her a grateful smile.
It took a while for us to close the delicate buttons in the
back, and eventually, the sales associate helped as well, but
when I turned to the mirror and saw myself, tears stung my
eyes. The sales associate explained how we could still
shorten the skirt and customize everything to my desires,
but I could only nod and stare. For some reason, I’d worried I
wouldn’t feel pretty in a wedding dress. I realized it was a
silly concern now. But weddings in our world were bound by
so many traditions that seemed to leave even less room for
a girl like me.
Giorgia gave me a thumbs-up, beaming all over her face.
I allowed my fingers to stroke the fine material of the skirt. It
was sheer but with a fine sheen and in a beautiful eggshell
color. The sales associate had discouraged me from wearing
a sweeping underskirt because it would push up when I was
seated in the wheelchair, and now, in a more flowy skirt, I
had to agree with her. It looked elegant instead of like I’d
tried to squeeze myself into a seat. “The embroidery is so
beautiful. You look amazing,” Giorgia said softly, her eyes
actually glistening. She wasn’t a crier, so I could feel my
own eyes water at the sight of her show of emotion. I
touched the fine lace edging, which accentuated the low
sweetheart neckline. I’d never put this much focus on my
décolletage, but I had to admit it had a nice effect.
 Taking a deep breath, I wheeled out of the changing
room. Anna set down her champagne glass, her mouth
parting in an O. Sofia’s expression brightened too. Of
course, Mom being Mom, only gave a nod, then narrowed
her eyes thoughtfully and began to circle me, looking for
ways to let the wheelchair disappear.
“It’s beautiful, it is,” she said slowly. “But I wonder if a
more sweeping dress would be better…”
“It’s perfect!” Anna said as if she hadn’t heard my
mother. She got up and nodded appreciatively as she
motioned to my waist. “The corset perfectly accentuates
your narrow waist and décolletage. If you’re up for it, I’d say
you should wear really high heels.”
I shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like I’ll have to walk in
them.”
Sofia and Anna looked uncertain if they should laugh, but
Giorgia, knowing me better, burst out laughing. Mom’s
mouth pinched, but she took a few steps back, letting me
spend time with the girls. She approached the sales
associate. Despite what everyone else thought, I knew she’d
ask for a sweeping dress.
Anna moved toward the shelves with pumps and picked a
few elegant, pointy heels. She held up a pair of gorgeous
Mary Jane pumps dressed in pearls and crystals. Seeing that
they were Jimmy Choos, I knew the price would match the
extraordinarily slim heels and be outrageously high. Anna
knelt before me. “May I?”
I nodded, a bit surprised as she put on the heels. I usually
never wore heels. It had never made sense, but now,
looking at myself in the mirror with these beautiful shoes, I
regretted all the missed opportunities.
“Perfect!” Anna said.
“Yes,” I agreed, promising myself to wear heels more
often in the future.
Mom urged me to try on three more dresses, but I
couldn’t shake the image of the first dress I’d tried on,
especially with the heels. I felt beautiful, so I picked my first
choice despite Mom’s attempts to steer me toward another
dress.
I wouldn’t try to cover up my wheelchair. I wanted to look
beautiful in my wheelchair, and if people couldn’t see me
like that because of a piece of metal, then that was their
problem.
Still, I couldn’t deny that I wanted Samuel to find me
beautiful.

Two months before the wedding, Samuel came to

Indianapolis and visited me at our home. I still lived with
Danilo even though that was supposed to be a temporary
thing. Mom hadn’t coped very well after Dad’s death, and
taking care of me—which she insisted on doing to an extent
I definitely didn’t require—took too much of a toll on her.
Danilo hadn’t minded letting me live with him, and I’d
preferred it too. He worked a lot and didn’t hover like Mom
did.
“What does he want?” I asked Danilo, who’d announced
Samuel’s visit to me just an hour before it was supposed to
happen. So typical. I had been busy crafting the origami
flowers I wanted to use as place cards for our wedding
tables. I was almost done with them but would have to start
crafting the white cranes I wanted to use as decoration
hanging from the ceilings over each table.
Danilo’s brows puckered. “I assume he wants to discuss
last-minute details of the wedding.”
I almost laughed. Like most men in our world, Samuel
hadn’t been involved with organizing the wedding. I hadn’t
expected him to be. Maybe I’d hoped we’d be in contact
now and then, but he’d simply given me carte blanche to do
whatever I wanted. Mom had naturally taken him up on the
offer and spent the past year organizing the wedding. She
preferred to do things her way. Even I had a hard time giving
her input. The number of arguments we’d had until I was
allowed to create origami decorations for our wedding had
been ridiculous.
I moved into my room on the first floor to put on some
makeup and brush my hair. I was in a cozy but flattering
cashmere dress and wool tights because the past few days
had been cold. I grabbed my new pair of caramel-colored
suede pumps from my wardrobe and put them on. After
Anna’s encouraging words about me wearing high heels, I
finally found the courage to buy these on my last shopping
trip with Giorgia. I hadn’t dared to wear them yet, though,
stupidly worried people would react badly.
I felt a sudden burst of nerves. I hadn’t been overly
nervous about the wedding yet. Maybe because it had
seemed so far away, and still like it might not happen at all,
but now Samuel was here to discuss last-minute details.
My stomach tightened. What if he wasn’t here to discuss
the wedding but the cancellation of it? I suddenly felt sick.
Samuel had known what he’d get when he agreed to
marry me, but maybe, over time, he’d changed his mind.
Maybe now that only two months remained, he realized that
he’d spend the rest of his life with a disabled woman. I
hated that the thought even crossed my mind, but Samuel
and I didn’t know each other. Nothing bound us except for
the promise between our families. I didn’t know what he
thought of me. I knew what most people in our world
thought of our bond, though, and it wasn’t very favorable.
I went into this bond completely blind, and so did he.
Maybe he, like so many people, thought the wheelchair
defined me and my every waking moment revolved around
my disability.
 I took a deep breath. I was being overdramatic. Samuel
wouldn’t come to visit to tell me the wedding was canceled.
He’d talk to my brother as the master of our family, and
Danilo would have warned me and probably raged like a
madman if that were the case.
The bell rang. I’d spent too much time fretting over
things that were unlikely to happen. Since my accident, I
often felt anxious when I encountered a new situation. I
shook my head. Everything would be all right. After a glance
in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable, I left my
room.
When I wheeled into the foyer, Samuel and Danilo were
shaking hands. Their tense expressions would have renewed
my worries if I didn’t know that these two weren’t friends,
and thus, all of their encounters lacked enthusiastic
greetings. They’d argued often in the past, even if I wasn’t
aware of the details. Maybe it was bound to happen because
each man was marrying the other’s sister.
Samuel glanced my way, and his smile became less
tense, but it was still far from joyful or warm. He looked like
the perfect ice prince in his beige coat, white dress shirt,
and beige dress pants. I smiled, but it felt just as tense as
the atmosphere in the lobby.
“Good afternoon, Emma,” Samuel said with a small nod. I
had to give it to him; he didn’t look at my wheelchair in that
awkward way some people did, but neither did he ignore it
completely as if it offended him.
His gaze slid lower to my heels, and a hint of surprise
crossed his face before he focused back on my face. “Good
afternoon,” I said quietly, my cheeks hot. Suddenly, I wished
I hadn’t worn the heels or, better yet, not bought them at
all.
“You came here to talk about the wedding?” Danilo
inquired in a tone that bordered on rude.
“I don’t have much time. I’m returning to Minneapolis
early in the morning…” Samuel trailed off.
 “Let’s go into the living room. We can discuss everything
there,” Danilo said.
Danilo went ahead toward the living room, leaving
Samuel and me behind.
I wanted to say something clever, or at least mildly
entertaining, but with Samuel’s blue eyes trained on my
face, I couldn’t come up with anything. He motioned in the
direction of the living room. “After you.”
“Thank you,” I said and moved ahead. I could tell he was
slowing his steps to stay behind me as his walk was usually
more brisk, but I appreciated this small gesture. However, I
wanted to see his expression, even if it was hard to read. At
least it gave me a little something.
Danilo settled on an armchair, and I stopped next to him.
Samuel removed his jacket and put it over the armrest of
the sofa, then sat down. I had to resist the urge to stare. The
dress shirt really looked great on his tall, muscled frame.
“What is it you want to discuss?” Danilo asked, tearing
me from my thoughts.
“I’m in the process of renovating the house Emma and I
will live in, and I wanted Emma’s input on certain design
aspects to make sure she would feel at home.”
My eyes widened in utter surprise. Of course, I’d known
we’d move in together but until now it had been a distant
concept. Now it suddenly became very real. And I had to
admit I was incredibly touched that Samuel had thought
about ways to make the house accessible for me.
“If it’s a two-story house, then you need to install an
elevator so she can reach the upper floor. There’s a lot to
keep in mind. Ramps into the backyard and out of the front
door.”
I glanced between them, growing increasingly frustrated
over their discussing things as if I weren’t present. “An
elevator would be good,” I said firmly, causing both men to
look my way. Samuel’s unwavering attention drove heat into
my cheeks, but I returned his gaze. “A floor-level shower,
wider doors, a lower kitchen counter and sinks, handles
beside the toilet…” I trailed off. Then because I didn’t want
him to think of all the difficulties my disability might cause
him, I added, “Once the house is accessible, I can live a
completely independent and normal life.”
Samuel nodded. “It’ll be done.”
“Maybe you should ask for help from an architect who
has experience with this?” I suggested.
“Do you know someone?” Samuel asked, surprising me.
“Not in Minneapolis, no. But I could ask around…”
“I’ll handle it,” Samuel said firmly. “Don’t worry.”
Danilo’s phone buzzed, and he got up. “Excuse me for a
moment.” His eyes cut to me, asking if it was okay. I’ll be
fine, I told him with my expression, and he left.
When he was out of the room, I became acutely aware
that talking to Samuel was up to me. I gave him a nervous
smile. I couldn’t read his expression as he regarded me.
“Only two more months,” I said for lack of anything else to
say, and flushed. Our last conversation had felt strained,
and Samuel’s words back then had only confirmed my
suspicion that he wasn’t too happy about our bond.
“Not much time,” he said neutrally. “Especially
considering that Sofia and Danilo marry two weeks before
us. That’s plenty of planning between our two families.”
“Our moms can handle it.”
“They do,” he said, then his eyes cut to my heels again.
“I’ve never seen you with heels before.”
My cheeks blasted with heat. I nervously tucked a strand
behind my ear. “Yeah. This is actually my first pair. I like how
they look.”
Samuel looked back up to my face and smiled slightly. “I
do too.”
I blinked, not sure if he’d complimented me or if he
simply meant he liked the heels, but not how they looked on
me. God, I was overthinking this again.
 “I’m glad,” I whispered. We looked at each other, and
Samuel’s eyes seemed to trace my face. I wished I knew
what he was thinking.
“Sofia has been practicing walking in heels for weeks
now. She still complains they are torture devices.”
I shrugged. “I won’t have to worry about that.”
His expression became tight.
“One less worry, right?” I gave him a grin to show him he
didn’t need to walk on eggshells around me.
“Indeed,” he said, and for a moment, his lips pulled into a
real smile. But then Danilo returned, so Samuel’s expression
returned to being tightly controlled.
He glanced at his watch. “I should go now. I’m sure you
have plenty to do as well.” He got up and grabbed his jacket
from the armrest but didn’t put it back on. Instead, he threw
it over his shoulder.
Danilo and I walked him to the front door. Samuel gave
my brother a nod, then turned to me. “I’ll see you at your
brother and Sofia’s wedding.”
I smiled. “See you then.”
He left, and I stared down at the engagement ring that
Samuel had sent me in a package a few weeks after our
engagement announcement. I wished he’d given it to me
and even slipped it on, but I consoled myself with the fact
that Danilo could be an emotional brick too. Samuel
probably didn’t even realize that it had hurt my feelings to
be sent the ring like that.
Danilo touched my shoulder. I glanced up at his worried
face. “Samuel will be good to you.”
“I’m not worried.” At least not about Samuel treating me
badly. What worried me was that he would be cold or
emotionally detached. That he’d never want to be with me
in a physical sense. That he’d cheat on me. That he’d see
me as a burden and not his wife.
I couldn’t share any of those concerns with Danilo. He
would only try to talk to Samuel and probably do more
damage.
I had to figure this out on my own.
I approached Danilo, who was immersed in his work as
usual. “I want to walk down the aisle.”
The idea first crossed my mind shortly after Samuel’s
visit and had festered ever since.
Danilo looked up from the papers, confused at first and
then concerned.
“Emma—” He began as if he was trying to explain to a
little kid that her legs didn’t work.
I narrowed my eyes. “I know my body and what it’s
capable of. I don’t want to walk down the entire length, just
the last few steps from the first row of pews to Samuel. I
want to meet him at eye level.” He would still be a head
taller, but I had always imagined walking down the aisle,
and while that wasn’t possible, I wanted to do what my body
was capable of.
I’d spent endless hours in physical therapy, strapped into
a harness that kept me upright as my feet barely dragged
over the treadmill. I’d cried tears of frustration over my
body’s inability to heal completely and tears of gratitude for
how far it had come from my almost entirely immobile state
after the car accident. But I knew with absolute certainty
that my body couldn’t do more than what it was capable of
now. I’d made peace with it and didn’t hope for a miracle to
carry me down the aisle to Samuel.
My iron will would do that, at least a few steps. I knew it
would be impossible to walk all the way down the aisle, but I
wanted to stand before the altar for a few seconds. This was
my wedding, and I wanted to make this the day I imagined.
Danilo looked doubtful.
“I did some research.” While in our world, my marriage to
Samuel was pretty much a novel thing as most disabled
women so far had remained spinsters, the outside world was
more progressive, and I’d watched countless weddings with
a disabled bride or groom to see options. It has given me
renewed hope, not just for the festivities but also for my
marriage.
“I could wear leg braces,” I said.
“You had them before and hated them.”
He was right. In the beginning, Mom had insisted I wear
them. She found them less obvious than the wheelchair, but
I’d never liked them. They’d been more hindrance than help,
and I didn’t mind sitting in my wheelchair most of the time
as it allowed me to reach most places quickly. “I don’t want
to wear them daily. I’m just thinking about wearing them in
church so I can walk the few steps.”
It was only a small gesture, a tiny moment in time, but I
hoped it would show Samuel that we could be partners at
eye level. In our world, so many people had trouble seeing
me as an independent grown-up woman for the simple fact
that I had a disability. And the little girl who dreamed of
being a princess wanted to stand in her wedding dress for a
moment. The dreamer and the realist in me wanted the
same thing for once, which showed me how important it
was for me. I was used to compromise, but I didn’t want to
concede on this.
Danilo got up and leaned against the edge of the desk to
be closer to me. “Emma, even with leg braces, you can
hardly walk. You’d need something to hold on to.”
“I could use a walker or maybe even a cane.”
“A walker could work, but even those few steps could be
strenuous in a heavy dress, and it would take a long time.”
I swallowed. Danilo wasn’t trying to hurt me or be unkind.
He was simply analyzing the situation in his usual manner. “I
still have six weeks. I could train daily with an evening gown
to simulate my wedding dress.”
Danilo sighed. “We need to talk to Mom first. She’s
planned every second of that day in detail. Your plans will
change the timing.”
I stifled a smile. Of course, Danilo wanted to be as
accurate as possible. His expression remained stern and
worried.
“Can you ask her to come over for dinner today?”
Danilo sighed but picked up his phone. I gave him a big
smile.
“Don’t get excited yet. You know Mom.”

Danilo was proven right when I told Mom about my plan.

Her eyes widened as if I’d suggested walking naked into
church. “A walking frame would ruin your outfit.”
“If a wheelchair doesn’t ruin my outfit, I doubt a walker
does,” I said teasingly, but Mom wasn’t in the mood for
jokes. Not that she was ever in the mood to joke about my
wheelchair. For her, it was always dead serious.
 “We could wrap the walker in white silk and decorate it
with flowers,” I added.
Mom pursed her lips. “That could work.” She paused, and
I knew I wouldn’t like her next words. “But Emma. You have
two minutes for the walk down the aisle. That’s the length of
the music piece I’ve picked for your entry. With your
wheelchair, you can easily stay within the timeframe, but if
you try to walk?”
“It’ll take longer, yes. But I’ll only walk a few steps. That
takes maybe two minutes longer.”
Mom shook her head. “Getting out of your wheelchair,
smoothing your dress, taking the walking frame and then
walking a few steps…that could take three to five minutes.”
I looked down at my hands. “I know.”
“You can’t make people wait. They’ll be bored, and it’ll be
awkward for them. You know how it is.”
“I know,” I muttered. “We don’t want to bother them with
the sight of my disabled body for too long lest they feel
uncomfortable.”
Mom glanced at Danilo as if she hoped he’d come to her
help, but he was watching me closely. My face probably
gave away how close to tears I was. I had grown used to my
wheelchair. I could do almost anything I wanted with it, but
for my wedding day? I just wished I could walk down a small
part of the aisle, even if it was at a snail’s pace.
“Emma,” Mom said softly. “Think about Samuel.”
I pressed my lips together. “You’re right. He’s the groom.
It matters what he thinks. But it should matter what the
bride wants too.” My voice cracked at the end.
“I’ll talk to Samuel,” Danilo said.
I shook my head. “I want to be present. Call him and put
him on speakerphone.” I didn’t want Danilo to blackmail
Samuel.
Danilo looked reluctant, but he dialed Samuel’s number.
“Yes?” Samuel asked in a clipped voice.
 “Evening, Samuel. I’m here with my mother and Emma,
and we want to discuss the wedding with you.”
“All right,” Samuel said slowly. I could hear the rustling of
papers in the background. He was probably busy. “What is
it?”
“I would like to walk down the last part of the aisle with
the help of a walker,” I said quickly before Danilo or Mom
could talk for me. “And I wanted to make sure you are aware
of my plans.”
“Is that possible?” Samuel asked with a hint of surprise.
“I can’t walk without support,” I said. “I’m very slow and
would need a walker, like I said.”
“It could very well take five minutes. People would have
to wait a long time,” Mom butted in. “We understand if you
don’t want that.”
Silence. Anger and frustration swelled in me. Mom always
worried so much about what other people thought, but she
rarely stopped to think what I wanted.
“They can wait for the bride on her wedding day. I don’t
see a problem. We can cut short the congratulations
afterward. They are a drag anyway,” Samuel said as if it
wasn’t a big deal, when it meant the world to me.
I bit my lip to stifle a smile at Mom’s stunned expression.
“That’s it?” Samuel asked after a moment, sounding as if
he was already busy with something else.
His curt manner didn’t even bother me today. I was just
happy that his reaction showed Mom that my wishes were
relevant.
It was only three days until the wedding. Giorgia sat in the
first row of the church to time me. I was grateful that she
took the time to help me. In the beginning, Mom had been
there as well, but her presence had been more discouraging
than anything else. Now that Danilo was married to Sofia, I
spent every day with Mom, and it made me anxious.
“You did it. Faster than last time.”
I nodded and smiled proudly as I sank down on the
wheelchair. “I’m getting used to the dress.” I was grateful
for what my body had done today. I had ditched the leg
braces very early on in our practice and only used a walker.
“Maybe Danilo could even lead you a few steps, then you
wouldn’t have to use the walker?”
“I don’t think that would work. He’d have to support most
of my weight.”
Giorgia stepped to my left side and held out her arm.
“Let’s try it.”
I held on to it and pulled myself into a standing position.
My body ached. I wouldn’t be able to practice much more
today, but I channeled all of my remaining power so we
could practice a few more times without the walker. Danilo
was much stronger than Giorgia, so the chances were high
that he could steady me even more.
Giorgia spent the night with us. Her brother had work to
do, and her mother lived most of the year in Italy, having
abandoned Giorgia with her brother and his wife.
“Are you excited?” Giorgia asked as we settled on my bed
after dinner to watch a movie.
“Nervous,” I admitted.
Giorgia tilted her head. “Because he’s an ice prince?”
I shrugged. “Because I hardly know him, and I still don’t
believe that Danilo didn’t force Samuel in some way. It
doesn’t make sense to establish a second bond between our
families. It doesn’t accomplish anything.”
“Maybe you should just leave it be. Even if there was
some deal between your brother and Samuel, that doesn’t
mean your marriage can’t be real. I mean, it could be worse.
He’s hot at least. The bachelors Mom suggested so far are
at least twice my age, divorced or widowed, and live in Italy.
I don’t want to move, and I don’t want to settle. Mom wants
someone who can finance her luxurious lifestyle, and
apparently, only old fools are willing to do that for me.”
I huffed. “You are beautiful inside and out. She’s not
looking in the right places. Your curves are spectacular.”
Giorgia jiggled her boobs. “Mom says men only like jiggle
in certain places.”
I burst out laughing. “Your jiggle is very impressive.
Maybe we can find you a match at my wedding.”
“You focus on you. I’ll eventually find someone.”

“We caught a Camorrista. He was trying to sabotage some

of the gaming machines in my clubs,” Renato said as he
entered my father’s and my office in the back of our biggest
casino ship. In the beginning, the gentle sway of the ship
had been unnerving, but by now, I was used to spending
part of my day on water.
Gambling and whores were the golden combination when
it came to making money, which was why Renato swam in
it.
Dad peered up from a stack of papers with the forged
receipts of our bars from our head accountant. His eyes met
mine. “You can question him.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Whenever a Camorrista
was caught near or in Minneapolis, I made sure I got my
hands on him. It wasn’t the same as torturing Remo Falcone,
but it was better than nothing.
“He’s mimicking our tactic,” I muttered as I jumped into
Renato’s vintage Jaguar.
“Because it’s a good one.”
“Because he’s mocking us,” I contradicted, feeling a
familiar fury burn in the pit of my stomach at the thought of
Remo Falcone.
Over the years, our war with the Camorra had become
less active. Too many soldiers had lost their lives since the
war had begun. Dante preferred to hurt the Camorra’s
business nowadays and no longer tried to kill the Falcone
brothers. Of course, if we managed to get our hands on one
of them again, that might change.
I sometimes wondered what I would do if I ran across
Remo Falcone. I wanted nothing more than to kill him for
what he’d done, for what he’d taken from me.
Unfortunately, I knew by killing him, I’d hurt Serafina. She
wouldn’t magically stop loving him because I killed him.
Worse, she’d probably romanticize his whole existence even
more than before. She had forgiven him for kidnapping her,
something I could never do and could not understand.
Sometimes I thought I’d kill him anyway. I’d kill him for
Enea, Arlo, and Domenico. I owed it to them. They had given
their lives for me and my sister. Remo had murdered them,
yet they hadn’t been avenged.
“Did you listen to a word I just said?”
I gave Renato a look. He parked the car in front of an
Outfit warehouse where we kept bar and restaurant
supplies, but in its underbelly, cells for questioning had
been set up.
“How are wedding preparations coming along?”
“Good?”
Renato snorted. “You have no clue.”
I shrugged. “I have more important things on my mind
than matching napkins to candles.” I got out of the car, and
Renato joined me soon after.
He grinned. “What about your bride? You never talk to
me about her. Have you made any progress? Are you
excited about the wedding night?”
I cocked an eyebrow. Renato and I were used to chatting
about our affairs and one-night stands. He obviously
thought I’d keep up that kind of talk about my future wife.
“With that face, she’s a ten out of ten. The wheelchair
makes me really curious about certain positions, though—”
I shoved him so hard he slammed against the side of his
car, then got in his face. “We’re best friends, and I’d die for
you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass for
disrespecting my fiancée. So stop talking about her like
that.”
Renato raised his palms. “You’re right.”
I took a step back and blew out a breath. He was right.
Emma was incredibly beautiful, and if I allowed myself to
think about our wedding night, I’d be eager as hell, but my
mind was elsewhere, and right now, Emma wasn’t mine yet.
She wasn’t even of age yet, so I simply wouldn’t entertain
those distracting thoughts.
We entered the warehouse after entering a code into a
panel, then crossed one of the aisles to the end of the vast
hall until we reached a flap door. A steep staircase led to a
basement. The flickering halogen lights stung my eyes as
we followed a guard’s pointing finger toward a cell to our
right. Inside, we found a no-name from the Camorra. Some
lowly soldier from Kansas City. It was the Camorra city
closest to our territory.
 Several years ago, we’d killed the Underboss there and
tried to kill the new one too. Now things were less potent.
Only men like the one in front of me died nowadays. We
contented ourselves with pissing each other off. Maybe one
day, I’d get the chance to kill another Camorrista of
importance.
The Camorrista in front of me sat on the floor and stared
up at me with prideful and stubborn eyes. He was trying to
make his Capo proud, no doubt. Torture would break him like
it broke all of them. All but Remo Falcone. Thinking of how
I’d tortured him to within an inch of his life was still one of
the fucking best moments of my life, followed by the fucking
worst when my twin sister saved him.
I shrugged out of my suit jacket and draped it over a
hook on the wall, then began to roll up my sleeves.
The man sneered up at me. “I bet you can’t sleep at
night because you dream about how Remo sticks his cock
into your sister’s holes.”
I stalked toward him, grabbed him by the throat, and
dragged him to his feet. Renato grabbed his arms and
pulled them behind his back.
“Your Capo would cut off your tongue and stick it in your
ass for speaking those words.”
The man swallowed, but he simply returned my gaze.
“Don’t worry, I’m not getting anywhere near your hairy
asshole. I’m not into that kind of stuff.”
“Unless it’s a pretty lady,” Renato said with a grin.
“And cutting off your tongue will have to wait until later.
First, we need to have a nice long chat, don’t you agree?” I
pulled out my knife, cocked an eyebrow, then dug the tip
into the skin beneath his eye, drawing blood. “I asked you a
question, and from now on, I expect answers, or you’ll lose
all those parts of your body you don’t need for our
conversation.”
Blood trickled down his cheek as my knife sank deeper
into his skin. He gritted his teeth, wincing. “Fuck you,” he
ground out.
I smirked. “Not the answer I wanted.” I cut off his
earlobe. I needed to pace myself. Starting with his eyeballs
posed the risk of too much blood loss.
He let out a choked cry and struggled in Renato’s hold.
“I hope you’ll be more talkative now.” He didn’t say
anything. I tossed the earlobe to the ground and picked up
my phone, calling one of the guards. “Bring the rats.”
The eyes of the Camorrista filled with disgust and panic.
The guard dropped off a transport box with three rats. I
opened it, then tossed the earlobe to the ground.
Immediately, a fight between the three rats broke out over
the piece of meat. They hadn’t been fed since yesterday
and hadn’t had any protein in several days.
I gave our captive a pleasant smile. “They’re very hungry.
I’m sure they won’t mind if you keep up your muteness.”
One of the rats scuttled over to us and climbed up the
man’s leg. He began to freak out, trying to shake her off, his
eyes going wide in disgust.
“Maybe this one didn’t get fed yesterday either,” I mused
when the rat reached our captive’s shoulder and tried to
reach the bleeding ear.
“Our pifferaio magico trained them well!” Renato said
with a laugh. He was referring to one of our guards who
bred and trained rats, which was why we called him the pied
piper of Hamelin. Father had been reluctant to use rats for
torture in the beginning as he found it tasteless, but now he
saw their value.
Three hours later, the rats were well fed, and the
Camorrista was near death. His breathing was labored as I
knelt beside him to end his miserable life in an act of mercy.
“Your sister is sucking Remo’s dick every day. Maybe once
he grows tired of her, he’ll kidnap your wife and teach her
how to suck dick.”
My fingers around the knife tightened, my pulse racing in
my veins. I shoved to my feet. “Let the rats have him. It’ll
take a few hours for him to bleed to death. They like their
meat fresh.”
I walked out of the cell. Renato followed me and locked
the door behind him.
“Want to grab a drink?”
I pulled a flask from my jacket and took a sip of vodka. “I
have a drink with me, but I’d be up for a few more.”
Emma looked breathtaking in her wedding dress. It
accentuated her narrow waist and elegant bone structure,
something I’d never paid attention to with a woman before.
Her brown hair hung in shiny curls down her shoulders and
was adorned with pearls.
She held her head high as she moved down the aisle in
her wheelchair by Danilo’s side. The way she moved it
along, she seemed to float toward me. Beside the first row
of seats, she stopped and arrested the brakes. She
exchanged a look with Danilo, who gave a curt nod, then
held out his arm to her. She reached down to her heels and
took them off. She put them on the footboards, then put her
bare feet on the floor. She pushed herself into a standing
position, and a hush fell over the church. Even though
Emma had hinted at it in our last phone call, it still came as
a surprise to see Emma rise to her feet. She held her head
high, a smile on her face, but I caught the hint of strain in
her eyes. This wasn’t easy for her, but she took Danilo’s
arm, then slowly put a leg forward.
It was the first time I saw her standing and in her dress.
The effect was spectacular. I held out my arm for her to hold
on to, and her fingers dug into my forearm. I covered her
hand with mine to steady her and hold as much of her
weight as possible. Luckily, she was petite, so I had no
trouble supporting her. She gave me a small, grateful smile.
It was admirable how she fought for what she wanted.
Together, we faced the priest. Her chest heaved from the
obvious effort of standing. It drew my attention to the
enticing neckline of her wedding dress.
Until now, I hadn’t paid much attention to Emma’s body.
But I allowed my gaze to discover her now. She was elegant,
with high cheekbones and an almost fairy-like aura.
Danilo and Renato positioned chairs behind us, and I
helped Emma sit before I took my seat beside her. Emma
kept her eyes on the priest throughout the ceremony, but I
kept glancing her way.
The priest seemed to talk forever, but eventually, it was
time for the vows.
I held out my arm to her once more and helped her pull
herself to her feet. Her fingers shook as we exchanged the
rings, making me feel very protective of my young wife.
“You may kiss the bride.”
I put one hand on her waist, steadying her even more. I
could tell that she was reaching the end of her strength. She
tilted her head up with an uncertain smile. I leaned down
and pressed my lips against hers. Her lips were pliable, and
she yielded to my pressure. The delicate blush on her
cheeks awakened a primal part in me that I had restrained
so far.
“I need to sit down,” Emma whispered apologetically.
I helped her into the wheelchair that Danilo had pushed
to the front. She arranged her dress, then peered up at me
with a hesitant smile. The music that Emma’s mother had
picked for our walk out of church began. I held out my hand,
and Emma put her hand in it, then I gave a nod, and she
began moving. I matched my pace to hers. I could see that
some people were still surprised that this wedding had
happened. When we reached the outside, a gentle rain was
falling. I quickly opened the umbrella that my father handed
me and held it over Emma.
“We postponed the congratulations to later in the hotel!”
Dad announced.
For all I cared, we could have canceled them altogether.
This was usually the most insincere part of every wedding,
except for the actual vows of love, perhaps.
I held the door open to the limousine.
“Can you help me? It’s harder to get into the car with this
dress.”
My mother and I helped Emma into the back seat, and I
joined her.
Silence settled between us once the doors were closed,
and we were on our way. I didn’t mind silence, but I knew
many people did. I glanced at Emma beside me. She was
breathtaking. Her hair shone like silk, and her skin was
immaculate. My gaze moved lower to the enticing neckline
of her dress and the valley between her breasts, then I
looked back up. Emma regarded me with a shy smile.
“We’re married.” She let out a nervous laugh. She reminded
me of her much younger age at that moment. Only
eighteen. Yet she had appeared more grown-up in many of
our previous encounters, so it had been easy to forget our
age difference.
“Indeed.” I cleared my throat. It was obvious Emma was
overwhelmed, and we still had a long day ahead of us. “You
don’t have to worry. Our mothers planned every moment of
today. We just have to follow their cues. And the guests
won’t care about mishaps as long as there’s food and
alcohol.”
 I reached under my jacket for the flask Renato had
handed me before the ceremony and unscrewed it. “Do you
mind?”
She quickly shook her head and watched as I took a
couple of gulps. It was my favorite whisky. Lagavulin. Strong
enough to burn your throat but delicious.
I held out the flask to Emma. “Liquid courage?”
Emma hesitated, then took the flask from me. She took a
sip and immediately started coughing, her face turning red.
She handed the flask back to me. “What is it?” she pressed
out.
“Whisky.” I took another gulp.
“That tastes like methylated spirit.”
“Trust me, it doesn’t. I have firsthand knowledge from
people I interrogated.”
Emma’s eyes widened, then she nodded. Danilo’s
treatment of enemies wasn’t for the fainthearted either, but
I wasn’t sure how much of his business Emma knew about.
“Why do you need it? Are you nervous?”
Was I nervous? This was a monumental step in my life. I
was now bound to a woman. Some men didn’t change their
actions, but I respected the holy bond of marriage. “No,” I
said simply because it was the truth. What came next was
the standard social exchange of pleasantries that I detested.
What came after was something I’d figure out then. “Are
you?”
She bit her lip and cast her eyes down to the ring around
her finger. “I have been nervous since I found out I was
promised to you.”
I frowned. Her reaction to our bond had been lackluster
from the start. Some people wondered why, but I had never
really expected Emma to be overjoyed. “Why?”
She looked out the window, obviously unsure how much
to share.
“You won’t offend me. Even your brother hasn’t
succeeded in a while.”
 Emma let out a choked laugh and turned back to me. “I
don’t understand why you two detest each other so much.
You aren’t so different.”
“I reckon that’s the problem,” I said with a shrug.
Though, I didn’t really think that Danilo and I were really
very much alike. We were alphas. That was the only thing
we had in common. “But you’re avoiding my question. Why
were you nervous when you found out we were promised?
Would you have preferred to marry someone else or not at
all?”
“No, neither,” she said and blushed. “You’re older and
more experienced in many regards, so that’s definitely a
factor.”
I could tell that wasn’t the entire truth. “That’s not a
disadvantage,” I said in a low voice. I could have said more,
but I didn’t feel we were quite there yet. I wasn’t sure how
to handle her.
She looked down at her hands with a thoughtful
expression. “You’re very aloof. I worry it’ll be hard to break
through your shell.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted her to succeed. She wished for this
deep sort of connection, and whenever I saw my parents
share a moment, I, too, wished for it, but this level of
intimacy brought risks. “We’re there.”
Emma glanced my way as if hoping for an answer, but I
didn’t want to give her false hope.
My eyes took in the ivy-covered front of the Van Delden
Mansion we’d picked as our wedding venue. It was the best
hotel in Minneapolis. Samuel had merely agreed but not
really been involved in the decision-making. My heart filled
with joy at the sight of the facade made of pink Sioux
quartzite. It was a place I expected to find in the French
countryside or in England, but not in downtown Minneapolis.
I’d fallen in love with the venue the moment Ines had sent
me photos of it, and I’d convinced my mother to agree even
though the ballroom had a limit of 175 guests.
The driver took my wheelchair out of the trunk, and
Samuel helped me sit down. I tilted my head up, taking in
the impressive building. The rain had stopped, which was
fortunate, considering we wanted to take wedding photos in
the garden. Samuel pushed me down the pathway that led
to the gardens. Our photographer waited for us beside a
gazebo. My mother and Ines joined us soon after.
“You can access the gazebo with your wheelchair,” the
photographer said.
Mom stepped forward with a tight smile. “I think Emma
should stand for the photos. We want wedding photos
without the wheelchair.”
 We? We had never discussed that.
Ines glanced from my mother to me and Samuel. I
flushed, feeling on the spot.
Samuel moved to my side. “Is that what you want?”
My heart swelled. I ignored Mom’s pinched expression.
This was my day. “I would like a mix of both. Me in my
wheelchair and me standing beside you.”
“How about we take a few photos in your wheelchair in
the gazebo, and then we’ll try a few standing photos on the
stairs?” the photographer suggested.
I could tell my mother was offended that we didn’t follow
her lead.
We moved into the gazebo, then Samuel and I gazed
toward the photographer, hoping for directions.
“How about you kneel in front of Emma and take her
hands?” Ines suggested.
Samuel got down on his knees. Luckily, the inside of the
gazebo was dry so he wouldn’t ruin his suit. He took my
hands. His felt warm while mine were cold and a little stiff.
“Give us some emotions,” the photographer encouraged.
“Look deeply into each other’s eyes as if you’re sharing a
secret.”
I met Samuel’s gaze, feeling awkward. How were we
supposed to convey emotions that weren’t there? I was
attracted to Samuel and maybe even had a little crush on
him, but I didn’t love him. And he definitely didn’t have any
feelings for me. This was an arranged marriage, not blissful
love. Samuel’s features softened in a smile, but it was still a
very restrained expression, and my own face felt very tense.
“More emotions,” the photographer said as she took
several photos.
Samuel glared. “Do your job. This isn’t helping.”
She snapped her lips shut and continued taking photos.
Samuel looked down at my hands, which were still in his.
“Your hands are icy. We should hurry to get you inside.” He
looked up with concern in his eyes.
 “It’s not very cold. It’s summer.” It was a cool day for
May, but my cold hands were from nerves, not because I
was freezing.
“That’s it!” the photographer said, and the click-click of
more photos being taken sounded. “That’s a wrap on this
set.”
Samuel raised an eyebrow and pushed to his feet,
releasing my hands in the process. My eyes registered
Danilo. He stood a few steps to the side, watching us. Sofia
wasn’t with him. They had married recently, but it was
pretty obvious they’d had a rough start. Seeing them
together today, I got the impression that things between
them were improving. Danilo didn’t share these things with
me, and I wasn’t close enough to Sofia yet to ask her about
it. Not to mention that I’d feel awkward doing so as Danilo’s
sister.
Danilo gave me a tight smile before his hard gaze settled
on Samuel, who returned it with an unimpressed expression.
“The stairs next!” the photographer said, moving ahead.
Samuel pushed me toward the base of the stairs. I
arrested the brakes and pushed myself into a standing
position. I realized I was still in my heels and couldn’t keep
my balance on them. Danilo stepped forward as if to catch
me, but Samuel grabbed my arm before he could and
steadied me with a hand on my waist.
“I need to get out of my heels,” I explained,
embarrassed.
I sank down and quickly slipped off my heels before I
stood again. Samuel helped me reach one of the upper
stairs and positioned himself beside me. Ines fanned out my
wedding dress so it cascaded down the steps. I was a bit
nervous standing on the stairs as it allowed less room for
stumbling. Samuel gripped my hands. “I’ll catch you if you
fall.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his declaration. “That’s very
romantic of you,” I teased.
 Samuel chuckled. “I’m going to be honest. Being
romantic isn’t my forte. At all.”
“You’re the ice prince.”
He scoffed. “That name has followed me for years.”
“It fits,” I said, my eyes tracing his blond hair, cold blue
eyes, and cool expression. If I had to pick someone to play a
Nordic god, I would choose him. “You look and act like one. I
thought you liked it. From what I hear, girls do.” I hadn’t
wanted to bring up other girls but couldn’t help the little jab.
I knew the stories about his conquests.
“They like the illusion. They like thinking they could melt
my cold heart. Because it would make them special.” He
rolled his eyes.
“Don’t you want someone to melt your cold heart?” I
asked in a mere whisper, not sure why I chose to pick this
topic on our wedding day. It was bound to end in disaster.
Samuel slanted a look at the photographer, who lowered
her camera and motioned for us to move on to the fountain.
“No. I don’t.”
“Oh.”
“We’re running out of time!” Mom pointed at the gold
watch around her wrist.
Samuel sighed and picked me up without warning. He
carried me down the stairs and toward the fountain. Being
pressed up to his body like that sent a nervous shiver down
my back, and my cheeks flushed.
“Just like this!” The photographer lifted her camera.
“Don’t move.”
She took several photos of me in Samuel’s arms. “I think
this is enough,” Samuel said, putting me down in my
wheelchair. He didn’t wait for the photographer to agree.
Instead, he pushed me up the ramp that led into the
ballroom of the hotel that we’d rented for the occasion. The
guests had gathered at their respective tables and were
busy chatting and drinking champagne or wine. Our photo
session had taken a while.
 Immediately, everyone’s eyes moved to us. I was used to
being stared at and didn’t even mind today. Most faces were
friendly, and I simply ignored the occasional grudging
expression. I wanted to enjoy today. When Samuel and I
arrived at our table, he noticed the origami cranes hanging
from the ceiling above the center of every round table.
“I’ve never seen wedding decor like this.”
Nerves filled my belly. His thoughtful expression didn’t
reveal if he liked them or not.
“Emma insisted on having them. She even folded them
herself! As if we didn’t have the necessary funds to buy
decorations,” Mom said in a scandalous whisper.
I stifled my annoyance. We’d still spent a five-figure sum
on decorations from flowers to balloons.
Samuel glanced at me. “You did these?”
“Yes, I’ve been doing origami for six years.”
He looked impressed. Hope bloomed in me. “I like it.”
“The cranes symbolize happiness and eternal youth.
They are luck bringers.”
“Do you think we need additional luck for our wedding?”
he asked, mildly amused.
I shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”
Mom pursed her lips, then her eyes registered on a
server who stood off to the side with a tray. “Why’s she
taking a break?” She went off to give someone else a piece
of her mind.
Danilo and Sofia joined us at that moment. Danilo
watched Mother’s departure with a frown, then raised his
eyebrow. “What happened?”
“She was displeased that Samuel didn’t hate my origami
decoration like she does.”
Danilo shook his head with a look of displeasure. Sofia
stood beside him, but they didn’t touch. Not that Samuel
and I were holding hands or the like.
“I would have hidden my dislike in front of your mother
even if I’d felt it. A husband should have his wife’s back,”
Samuel said simply.
I narrowed my eyes. “So you lied?”
“No, I really like them. But I would lie to others to have
your back.”
I bit my lip, secretly pleased. “As long as you don’t lie to
me.”
“I can be very honest.”
Danilo made a face as if he doubted that. I gave him a
curious look, but he simply smiled tightly.
“I think they are spectacular and gorgeous. If I’d known
you could do these, I would have asked you to craft them for
our wedding.” Sofia pursed her lips. “Though, they probably
take forever to fold, right?”
“It took me a while, but I would have done it for you and
Danilo.”
I positioned my wheelchair closer to the table as Mom
signaled for us to sit down for dinner. Sofia sat beside me,
and Danilo was beside her. I insisted she sat beside me
because I didn’t want to bear Mom’s admonishments all
evening. Samuel sat down on my other side, and soon, his
parents and my mother took the remaining seats.
Samuel’s father rose to his feet when all the guests found
their seats. As Underboss and the father of the groom, he’d
give a little speech first before Samuel would open the
dinner.
The attention shifted to Samuel and me as he mentioned
how happy he and Ines were about our bond.
“We can’t wait to become grandparents and hopefully
have a grandson who will continue the Mione legacy.”
Samuel’s lips tightened, and I noticed how Ines nudged
her husband under the table and sent him a warning look.
His confused expression told me he wasn’t sure what he’d
done wrong.
To be honest, it was a pretty standard thing to say for a
patriarch at his son’s wedding. I’ve heard a similar phrase at
countless weddings. But with the continued rumors about
my infertility, a comment like that only added fuel to the
gossip fire.
At many tables, people exchanged looks or even
whispered, but Samuel shoved to his feet and clanged his
knife against his wineglass with a bit more force than
necessary.
“Let the feast begin. I’m sure we all need a drink and
good food.”
He sank back down and gave me a tight smile.
When the service crew streamed in with the appetizers—
deviled quail eggs with caviar and more champagne to go
with it—Sofia leaned over to me. “I’m sorry for what Dad
said. The men in my family can be horribly insensitive.”
I gave her a small smile. “The men in my family as well.”
She followed my gaze toward Danilo, who regarded the
tiny appetizer with disdain. “I hope the portion sizes
increase.”
Mom gave him an indignant look. “We have six more
courses. I didn’t raise you to be a barbarian.”
I stifled my laughter.
Samuel wasn’t as restrained. He let out a dry chuckle. “I
guess you haven’t seen Danilo’s barbaric side very often
then.”
“No talk about business at the table,” Ines said firmly.
“This isn’t wedding talk.”
Sofia and I exchanged a look, both trying to stop
ourselves from grinning. I had to admit I was sad that Sofia
wouldn’t be in Minneapolis. She and I would have bonded
even more over time.
I worried about making friends, especially as good and
loyal as my bestie Giorgia. I searched the ballroom until my
eyes settled on her beside her brother. She met my gaze
and raised her eyebrows comically as she took a delicate
bite of the tiny egg.
God, I’d miss her.
After dinner, the dance floor was prepared for the following
festivities. My stomach tightened with nerves. This was
actually the part of the wedding I was the most nervous
about—maybe not the most… that was the wedding night.
But I worried about how Samuel and I would master our
dance. Of course, I could move to the music in my
wheelchair—I had done so often with Giorgia when we’d
partied to our favorite songs in our rooms—but I’d never
danced with someone while in a wheelchair. Samuel and I
had never practiced doing so, and I feared rolling over his
feet while trying to dance with him. Mom looked ready to
combust with nerves. She was probably even more worried
than me about all the possible things that could go wrong.
When everything was set up, Samuel leaned toward me.
“I’ll carry you toward the dance floor, and if you think you
can do it, I’ll help you through the song.”
 I swallowed and gave a nod. “If you hold me up, I can do
a song.”
“All right,” Samuel murmured and rose to his feet.
Everyone’s eyes settled on us, but I ignored them. I wanted
this moment to be Samuel’s and mine. I didn’t want other
people’s judgment to ruin this for me. I motioned at my
heels. I doubted I could stand a single moment on them. My
balance was too impaired. Samuel understood and got down
on one knee in front of me. Heat shot into my cheeks when
he touched my ankle and carefully slid my heels off. I
couldn’t feel his touch, but I still felt a flood of tingles shoot
through my body. Samuel straightened once more and
picked me up as if it was the easiest thing in the world. I
wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed my other
hand against his chest, not because I needed to steady
myself but because it felt good to feel his steady heartbeat
and strength.
When we arrived on the dance floor, Samuel carefully put
me on my feet, but he held most of my weight until I found
my balance. Yet even then, he still firmly held on to my
waist. “Ready?” he asked in a low voice, his blue eyes
locking on mine. A low murmur had picked up among the
guests, but I still didn’t look. I only had eyes for Samuel, my
husband. It was still difficult to wrap my mind around the
fact that I was a married woman now.
“Yes.”
My heartbeat was racing, and my mouth was becoming
increasingly dry. Samuel gave a sign to the band, and they
played the first notes of the slow waltz. I’d danced the waltz
often before but never like this, not once since my accident.
Samuel began swaying lightly to the music, and I did the
same. For a moment, I was sure my legs would slip away,
but Samuel tightened his hold around my waist.
We swayed to the music for a long time, my hands
resting on Samuel’s strong shoulders. Samuel held my
waist. From the outside, it probably looked as if he was
simply touching me, but his hands were the reason I could
stay upright for so long. My fingers clutched his shoulders,
and his hands supported me. He carried most of my weight
as we danced. I didn’t mind that we couldn’t do a waltz. This
back-and-forth swaying was more than I’d dared to hope for,
and it filled my heart with so much joy and gratefulness that
I had trouble keeping the grin off my face despite the strain
I felt in my legs.
I peered up and gave Samuel another grateful smile. His
expression, as usual, was emotionless, controlled, and on
the verge of brooding.
“Am I getting too heavy?” I asked with a hint of worry. I
was much smaller than Samuel, and he looked and felt
really strong, but I imagined it wasn’t easy to dance with so
much additional weight.
He gave me a small smile. “I can handle it. Don’t worry
about me.”
My eyebrows rose, and my expression became teasing.
“So you’re saying I’m heavy.” I flushed, surprised by my own
courage.
“I didn’t, and I won’t. I learned a lesson or two about the
traps men can walk into in a marriage by watching my
parents. To some questions, there are only wrong answers.”
The song ended, and Danilo took over from Samuel
before I could say anything. I had to admit I missed being in
Samuel’s arms, even if his touch was still foreign. After the
dance with my brother, he brought me back to my
wheelchair. I wished I could keep dancing. It always made
me happy. Maybe one day I would dance as a hobby again.
Samuel appeared at the table, dropping his sister Sofia
off. She and Danilo took off for another dance, and I
watched them with longing.
Samuel cleared his throat, drawing my gaze up to his
face.
He held out his hand. “Would you give me the honor of
another dance?”
 I bit my lip, nervously glancing around as I felt the gazes
of the people at the surrounding tables on us. One dance
had been expected, but this definitely caught the attention
of several people.
I put my hand in Samuel’s, then whispered, “I’d like to
dance in my wheelchair.”
Samuel nodded slowly, but I could see the questions in
his expression. I too wasn’t sure how slow dancing with
someone would work. He led me toward the dance floor. We
stayed at the edge so I wouldn’t roll over any feet. I had
never tried a waltz since my accident. Samuel’s cool and
resolute expression gave me confidence, so I extended my
arms so he could clasp my hands. “Let me know if I do it
wrong.”
I gave him a nervous smile. “I wouldn’t know. It’s the first
time I’ve done a waltz like this.”
He nodded again, appearing even more determined. He
pushed me back, then pulled me closer again, back and
forth, back and forth, until I felt confident to release one of
his hands and do a twirl. I giggled when I managed to avoid
rolling over his feet. I had to pay for my overconfidence a
moment later—or, rather, Samuel had to pay for it—as I
rolled over his toes during another twirl.
“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed at the brief flash of discomfort on
his face.
“I’m used to living on the edge,” he said in such a
humorless tone that I couldn’t stop a flood of giggles from
bursting out.
Samuel’s mouth briefly twitched into a smile, and my
worries over how this day would go evaporated.
Our eyes met. “Thank you.”
“What for?” I asked. Emma looked at me as if I’d given her a
great gift. I hope she wasn’t thanking me for marrying her
because she’d soon realize I wasn’t the fucking catch
everyone made me out to be.
“For dancing with me like this,” she said with a small
laugh as if it should have been obvious. Her eyes sparkled
with happiness, and all I could think about was how she
could still be such a positive person after all the shit that’d
been thrown at her. Hearing her carefree giggles had given
me a burst of positivity I hadn’t felt in forever.
“You’re my wife. You deserve as many wedding dances as
you desire.”
For all the shit you’ll have to put up with while being
married to me.
The song drew to an end, but I didn’t stop moving back
and forth with Emma, and when the next song began, she
tried another twirl.
When she didn’t roll over my feet this time, she looked
immensely pleased with herself. “How are your toes?”
I gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry about me. That
was nothing. I can tolerate a lot of pain, and this is far less
painful than the social chitchat at these gatherings.”
 Her eyebrows rose, and her expression became teasing.
“So you prefer me rolling over your feet to talking to me?”
She flushed. I’d always only seen Emma’s quiet and shy
side, so I too was surprised, not unpleasantly though. If she
wasn’t quite as breakable, that would make things easier for
me. Today, her personality had shone through several times.
“I don’t. Talking to you has been surprisingly pleasant so
far.”
“Do you say it because you learned that lesson from
watching your parents’ marriage or because it’s true?”
“It’s true, but said lessons definitely play a part too.”
She giggled, then bit her lip, looking away. After a
moment, she cast her gaze back up, watching me through
her long lashes. “I can’t wait to see what lessons you
learned.”
A dirty joke lay on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it
at the last moment. For some reason, I was unsure how to
handle Emma when it came to the bedroom. We’d never
breached the subject of sex for multiple reasons. It had felt
inappropriate for a long time due to her age. She was eight
years younger, dammit. Plus, we rarely talked alone. And for
some reason, it felt as if I was taking advantage of her. Her
disability made her seem so vulnerable that making
advances on her felt like I was using her.
“Why are you frowning?” she asked, worry filling her
beautiful face.
“It’s nothing,” I clipped.
“Of course.” She became tense, and I wanted to kick
myself. I’d have to figure this shit out by tonight. Maybe it
would be best if I just talked to her, even if it embarrassed
her. I could hardly talk to Danilo about this even though he
was the one who knew her best. The thought of his enraged
face if I did talk about the wedding night cheered me up
considerably.
“Let’s enjoy another dance,” I suggested, and her hand
relaxed in mine once again. After that dance, Danilo took
over again, giving me another hard look. He should know
that I was immune to it by now.
Despite my desire to return to the table for a glass of
wine, it was my turn to dance with my mother next.
Her eyes were glassy when she took Emma’s place. She
hadn’t always been this emotional in public, and she was
still mostly a very controlled woman, but since losing my
twin sister, she seemed to savor every moment she got to
celebrate with Sofia and me all the more.
She gave me a half-embarrassed smile. “You two look
really sweet together. I hope the photographer took many
photos of you.”
“I’m sure she did. You’ll have plenty of images to fawn
over.”
Mom gave me a reproachful look. I gave her the smile
that always appeased her. She squeezed my shoulder. “Are
you happy?”
“This marriage was never meant to make me happy. It
was a business deal,” I said.
Mom briefly looked at where Sofia stood talking to Anna
and Luisa. Sofia definitely didn’t look happy about her
marriage to Danilo, which was another thing that had
dampened my mood in the past few days. “I know, but I
want you to be happy. I want you to at least try to be happy
and not forbid yourself from it because of a past mistake.”
“A mistake doesn’t kill three of your friends. But I’ll try to
be happy, Mom.”
Mom’s eyes drifted to Emma who still swayed to the
music with Danilo. “She deserves happiness too.”
“Playing the guilt card?” I asked with a hint of
amusement. Mom didn’t use it very often, but when she did,
she was good at it.
“If it ensures you finally stop living in the past and be the
boy I raised.”
“I’m still him, just older and more jaded. That boy
wouldn’t survive long as an Underboss.”
 She hit my shoulder. I kissed her cheek. “Time to switch
partners.”
I handed her over to Dante and started dancing with
Valentina. With her heels, she was almost my height, which
was an impressive feat.
“You look relieved to be dancing with me.”
I smirked. “Sometimes mothers can get a bit
overbearing.”
“Well, I’m one myself, so yes. Don’t be angry with her.
For a mother seeing a child suffer is the worst thing
possible.”
“Do I look like I suffer?” I asked sarcastically. The last
thing I needed was to appear weak in public.
“No, you are as controlled as Dante where your emotions
are concerned.”
I didn’t comment on that. Dante was my Capo, that he
was also my uncle was completely irrelevant, so I definitely
wouldn’t judge his emotional state. As his wife, Valentina
could say whatever she wanted.
Luckily, Valentina didn’t try to talk about feelings after
that. Eventually, I could escape the dance floor. Emma was
in conversation with Sofia, Anna, and a red-headed girl I
didn’t know at our table, so I went over to the bar to grab a
drink. Danilo joined me soon after, ordering a drink for
himself. “I appreciate that you gave Emma the dance she
deserves.”
I nodded, sensing that this wasn’t all he had to say.
“About tonight—”
I cut him off before he could piss me off. His bringing up
the subject of our wedding night was definitely nothing I
would tolerate, even if I’d previously entertained the
thought. “Listen, if this is about what happens behind closed
doors tonight, then keep it to yourself. Emma is my wife,
and she and I can figure things out without your
involvement. Or do you want to discuss why Sofia looks like
she swallowed a bitter pill?”
 Danilo narrowed his eyes, but then he nodded. He
obviously wasn’t very keen on having someone shove their
nose in his marriage either. Mom had told me that Sofia had
assured her that Danilo treated her right. She probably
wished for a loving marriage like most women did. Like
Emma did.
Renato joined us, carrying two glasses filled generously
with red wine. “Negroamaro,” he said as he handed one
glass to me.
Danilo raised an eyebrow. “You can refill your glasses.
You don’t need to fill them to the brim.”
Renato took a hefty gulp from his wine, emptying it by
half. “Thanks for the tip.”
I took a few gulps from my wine as well. The effects of
the spirit in my flask had already faded, and I hadn’t found
time to get it out again yet. “That busty redhead makes me
dream about a tit job,” Renato muttered, his eyes on the
curvy girl talking to Emma, Anna, and Sofia.
I sent him a look that said shut up.
Danilo scowled. “That is Emma’s best friend Giorgia.”
“She promised?” Renato asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Danilo drawled.
I emptied my glass. “I don’t think telling her you want a
tit fuck is going to make her swoon.”
“If you married her, Emma would have her best friend in
Minneapolis. That would be a good thing,” Danilo said.
I shook my head. “Always the matchmaker.”
Danilo sent me a warning look. “This isn’t something we
should discuss here.” He was worried Emma would find out
about our deal. I wasn’t too keen on having the info spread
either.
“What isn’t?” Emma asked suddenly. She was a couple of
arm’s lengths away from us, and Giorgia was with her.
Emma glanced curiously between Danilo and me.
“Business,” Danilo said with a tight smile. He went over
to Emma and squeezed her shoulder before he took off
toward my sister Sofia, who looked less than enthused
about his approach.
“I’d like to introduce my best friend Giorgia Farina.”
I dipped my head in greeting, trying not to stare at her
low neckline. If Renato hadn’t spewed the nonsense about
the tit fuck, that wouldn’t have been a problem. “Nice to
meet you. You’re always welcome to visit Minneapolis. My
family and I will make sure you’re safe.”
Giorgia smiled brightly, but the smile dulled when she
noticed Renato’s less-than-proper leer. He was practically
glued to her chest. I nudged his side. “Please meet my
friend Renato.” He tore his gaze up to nod at Emma before
he smiled his most charming smile at Giorgia. I hoped he
didn’t think he could ruin my wedding by making advances
on this girl.
“Pleasure,” he said in a way that made me want to kick
his stupid ass.
Giorgia made a face as if she got a whiff of something
nasty.
Emma blinked, then gave me an uncertain look. “Uh, nice
to meet you, Renato.” She met Giorgia’s gaze, and
something passed between them that I had no clue about.
“We should head back to Anna and Sofia,” Emma said
and gave me a questioning look.
“So much for making a good first impression,” I
muttered.
“Giorgia liked what she saw.”
“I’m talking about Emma. You’re my best friend. It would
be nice if my wife didn’t hate you.”
Renato scoffed. “She’s your wife. She has to accept
whoever you’re friends with, Samuel. You make the rules.”
“I need another drink.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Come on. I have a bottle
of bourbon in my jacket.”
After a couple of shots of bourbon, I felt much more
relaxed. I knew I couldn’t get drunk at my wedding, but it
took a lot of alcohol for me to show actual signs of
intoxication.
I was glad for my ability to hold my liquor when Dante,
Valentina, and my parents joined me after Renato and I had
almost emptied the bottle. Renato quickly excused himself,
as he definitely showed signs of having drunk too much.
“Where’s your lovely wife?” Valentina asked with a smile.
Dante had a hand on her lower back and regarded her with
obvious appreciation. My father had an arm around Mom’s
waist. Despite their arranged marriages, both couples
obviously loved each other, but I wasn’t foolish enough to
believe that happened with most pairings. They were lucky.
Considering fate’s way of screwing me over in the past, I
doubted luck would be on my side with my marriage to
Emma. I searched the room until I found Emma in
conversation with Giorgia near the bar. She was drinking a
glass of white wine. “She’s busy with her friend.”
“Maybe you should go over to her now,” Mom suggested.
“Ines,” Dad said in a low voice. “I’m sure Emma and
Samuel can handle their marriage.”
Dante exchanged a mildly amused look with me. I felt
half tempted to ask him how he had built a solid marriage
with Valentina, considering he was as emotionally
withdrawn as me.
“She’s on her own now,” Mom said.
My gaze locked on Emma, who was moving toward the
doors and went out of the room unaccompanied. I
considered following her, but I didn’t want her to feel
watched. She could handle herself. I didn’t want her to think
I considered her not capable. “She’s probably heading to the
bathroom. I doubt she wants my company there.”
Mom sent me a reproachful look, but I was immune to it
by now.
When Emma hadn’t returned fifteen minutes later, I got a
bad feeling. I kept glancing at the doors.
 “Why don’t you go to your wife? Dante and I will chat
some more with your parents,” Valentina said with a
knowing smile.
Dante gave a curt nod. “Tonight is only about you and
your wife.”
I gave them a tight smile and headed for the doors. I
couldn’t explain it, but I just felt particularly protective of
Emma. Maybe it was because she seemed more vulnerable
in her wheelchair. Any kind of weakness always drew in the
worst characters of our world, and plenty of horrid people
were at this gathering today.
I followed my instinct and went toward the restrooms in
the adjoining hallway. The moment I turned the corner, I
spotted Emma, and she wasn’t alone.
One of the guests, a distant relative whose name I’d
never bothered to keep in my mind, stood in front of her. His
wide stance and the way he bent over with his hand pressed
against the wall right over Emma’s head pissed me off right
away. My pulse began pounding.
“Maybe you need help…” he said, and I hesitated,
wondering if I let my irrational overprotectiveness get the
better of me, but he leaned farther down as if he was about
to lift her despite Emma shaking her head.
What the fuck? He was definitely not being helpful. The
asshole was making a move on her, on my wife. I got a
glimpse of Emma’s face. Her face turned red, and she
looked uncomfortable.
I stalked toward them, now absolutely furious. He
straightened a second before I reached him, but I didn’t give
him time to turn. I grabbed his throat, my fingers digging in
and squeezing. I punched him in his kidney with my free
hand. He sank on one knee and stared up at me with
watering eyes. I didn’t loosen my hold on his throat. “You
owe my wife an apology.”
Emma’s wide eyes darted from me to him. She held his
gaze.
 I released him so he could speak. “I’m sorry,” he got out,
sounding only distantly honest, but Emma nodded and gave
me an encouraging look.
I met his gaze. “I think it’s time for you to go home now.
The party’s over for you.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried away, shaking
his head as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. I
gritted my teeth against a new wave of anger and tried to
stop myself from chasing him down and killing him. If Emma
hadn’t been there and if this wasn’t our wedding, I definitely
wouldn’t have reacted as restrained. Maybe I would request
his presence at some point and fake an accident.
I stepped closer to Emma. She was smoothing out her
beautiful dress, her cheeks still flushed. She looked as if she
wanted to disappear.
“Do people often disrespect you?” I asked in a
moderately calm voice.
Emma shrugged, peering up at me through her long
lashes. She looked gorgeous with her big doe-like eyes. “It
happens on occasion. Some men seem to think I’m easy
prey because of the wheelchair.” Some of her
embarrassment was replaced by fierce frustration. Her
brows pulled together as she regarded the ring around her
finger.
“It won’t happen again,” I muttered.
Emma raised her brows curiously. “You won’t always be
around. I need to learn to speak my mind instead of sitting
there like a mouse in a trap.”
“Once people realize I won’t tolerate this kind of
behavior, they’ll stop.” I moved closer and motioned toward
the door of the accessible toilet.
She quickly shook her head. “I was on my way back to
the party when he came along.”
I touched her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
She chuckled and nodded. “Absolutely sure. Don’t worry.
You came before it got really bad.”
 We moved back toward the party together, and after
that, I stayed close to her side. I didn’t want another idiot to
ruin this day for Emma.
It was getting late, and my nerves started to show, so I
spent a few more minutes with Giorgia. She was always
good at distracting me.
Giorgia and I moved to a corner for a chat, shielded from
view by a privacy screen because a door to the staff area
hid behind it. “You look nervous.”
“I am. It’s strange knowing that I’ll spend the night with
Samuel. And not just sleeping.”
Giorgia bit the corner of her lower lip. “I’m sure it’ll be
good. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “But it’s not like he chose to marry
me.”
“You look friggin’ hot. He’ll be into you unless he’s gay.”
I giggled. “I’m pretty sure he’s not.”
A few minutes after midnight, Samuel and I took our leave
and headed toward Samuel’s black Mercedes limousine. Our
families and a few others followed us to see us off.
Samuel opened the passenger door for me, then his
brows pulled together. I usually had no trouble lifting myself
into a car seat, but the long dress made it a tad more
difficult.
“I can lift her into the car.” Danilo stepped forward.
“No, I can handle it,” Samuel said at once. He bent down
and slid one arm behind my back and the other under my
legs. I quickly slung my arm around his neck, and my hand
came to rest against his chest. His sudden closeness drove
heat into my cheeks. He lifted me out of the wheelchair, and
I clung to him, acutely aware of the crowd watching us.
“You won’t always have to lift me into the car.”
Samuel set me down on the leather seat. “It’s our
wedding day. It’s tradition to carry the bride over the
threshold, so I might as well carry you into the car.”
I grinned, relieved by his casual words. They lifted a
weight off my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I said as I buckled up.
Danilo watched me with his usual look of vigilant
concern. I rolled my eyes at him before Samuel closed the
door, and the privacy glass prevented the outside world
from seeing my face.
Samuel slid behind the steering wheel and started the
car. When we pulled away from the hotel, I could feel a
sense of wistfulness. One part of my life was over, and a
new chapter had begun. I was looking forward to it with
trepidation and excitement. I wasn’t sure what to expect
from a marriage with Samuel.
We pulled up in front of a beautiful mansion, which sat
right at the lakefront. It was a newly built, two-story
mansion on Lake of the Isles. Ramps had been built beside
the two stairs that led up the slope to the front door. Floor-
to-ceiling windows dominated the front on the first and
second floors to give a view of the lake. Samuel pushed me
up the ramp, then he opened the door for me.
“Would you like a tour?” Samuel asked as I looked around
the entrance hall with its high ceiling. I had seen the exposé
and a few photos Samuel had taken, but seeing it in person
was an entirely different experience.
I couldn’t wait to see the outdoor pool in the backyard
and the fireplace on the deck. All day, I’d been nervous
about tonight, so I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus on
anything else. “Maybe tomorrow morning, but now I’d rather
go to bed.” My cheeks exploded with heat, but Samuel
simply nodded. He looked calm and not at all nervous. I
wished I could have a bit of his calm.
Next to the staircase, a modern glass elevator had been
installed. Samuel pressed the button, and the doors slid
open. He motioned for me to go in first and followed me. He
stood very close to me as the elevator did not allow for
much space between us. Not that I minded. Still, it was
strange to be almost at eye level with his groin area,
considering what would happen soon. My cheeks warmed
further, and I tried to get my mind out of the gutter before I
turned red like a tomato.
The elevator stopped on the upper floor and slid open.
Samuel exited so I had room to wheel out. I glanced around.
The gallery allowed a nice view over the entryway and onto
the lake. Even in the dark, I could tell the view was
spectacular. This could become a true home.
I glanced up at Samuel, who waited patiently beside me
to look out the window. I hoped the two of us could make
this a home.
He gave me a small smile, but it was so hard to read his
eyes. He seemed so controlled, almost disinterested. Didn’t
our wedding night make him nervous at all?
I gave him a smile in turn and glanced past him to
indicate that we could move on.
“The primary bedroom is over there,” he said, leading me
toward the first door on the left. He opened the door for me,
and I moved inside. The walls were painted dark blue, and a
beautiful light gray herringbone parquet covered the floor. A
chandelier hung over the wide king-sized bed with its silver
bedding. The soft light from the chandelier immediately
relaxed me.
After finishing my first quick assessment, I stopped in the
middle, unsure what to do and where to go. To the
bathroom? But the dress was closed by dozens of tiny
buttons I wouldn’t even be capable of opening myself.
Samuel closed the door before he faced me.
He looked magnificent in his dark blue tuxedo. He had
blond hair and stunning blue eyes, with wide shoulders and
strong arms. I tore my gaze away and lowered it to my
hands, which fumbled with my purse.
Silence cloaked us like a heavy drape, settling itself like a
suffocating weight on my heart until my throat tightened
and embarrassment crowded my chest. I should let him off
easily and tell him I was tired.
I didn’t want him to sleep with me because he felt
obligated when he didn’t desire me. “Is it okay if I go to the
bathroom to wash my face and freshen up?”
“Of course,” Samuel said, and the tight note in his voice
made me look up. His brows were drawn together as he
regarded me, maybe wondering if he needed to help me.
With that intense look, he seemed even less approachable,
like there was no way I could ever crash through the walls
he had built as a high-ranking Made Man. The thought that
he might worry about having to assist me to go to the toilet
drove shame into my cheeks.
I rolled my wheelchair into the bathroom but didn’t close
the door and continued until I was in front of the sink. The
bathroom was incredibly spacious, so I had more than
enough room to move around. The shower was accessible
with a wide door that allowed easy access and handles so I
could pull myself up, and one of the counters was lower so I
could easily see my reflection even when seated in my
wheelchair.
Samuel followed me and leaned against the doorframe.
His scrutiny made me nervous, but at the same time, I
wanted to show him that I wasn’t as helpless as he worried.
I arrested the brakes of my wheelchair, then slid my legs to
the floor and carefully pushed myself to my feet. Samuel
rocked forward as if he thought I would fall, but I gripped the
edge of the counter to steady myself and straightened. His
eyes trailed along my body, and I realized he was checking
me out in my wedding dress. I couldn’t read his expression,
but I hoped he liked what he saw. I loved the dress, loved
how I looked in it. I went through my evening routine,
cleaning my face and brushing my teeth, while Samuel
stood in the doorway.
I wished he’d at least say something. When I was done, I
paused and peered toward my husband in the mirror. Our
gazes locked, and the intensity in his halted my breath. I
swallowed, not sure what to do. At that moment, it seemed
impossible that only eight years separated us. Eight years
and a lifetime of experiences.
Undressing would be next, but I’d need his help with the
dress, and considering this was our wedding night, he
should be eager to get me out of my clothes and into the
bed. Samuel briefly looked away, and when he met my gaze
again, his expression was stone.
I swallowed my disappointment and my pride. “I need
help with the buttons.”
 “Of course.” Samuel walked over to me, and my fingers
on the counter tightened. My legs grew tired from standing.
My muscles were not strong enough to carry my weight this
long after a day like this.
“Do you need to sit down?” Samuel asked as he towered
over me. He was much broader and taller than me, and my
insides liquefied at his strength.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “But then you won’t be able to reach
the buttons.”
Samuel considered me for a few seconds. “If you lie down
on your stomach on the bed, I can unbutton your dress.”
My stomach fluttered. “That sounds like a good plan.”
A small, tense smile graced Samuel’s face, and he
surprised me when he lifted me and carried me over to the
bed. I wasn’t sure where to put my hands, suddenly
overwhelmed with the situation, so I cradled them against
my stomach. When we reached the bed, he paused, and I
looked up. My belly twisted at the look on his face. I wasn’t
sure what it meant, but my pulse sped up nevertheless. He
tore his gaze away and put me down. As I lay before him in
my dress and he stood over me, my nerves bustled in my
body. I rolled over, presenting my back to him, and he
perched on the edge of the bed. His fingers brushed the skin
between my shoulder blades when he reached for the top
buttons of the dress, and I stifled a soft sigh as I rested my
head on my forearms.
Samuel worked on my buttons in silence, and every so
often, his fingers brushed my skin as he loosened the
buttons. I could feel his accidental touches in the deepest
pit of my belly, wakening something I had never felt before.
When he reached the last third, I stilled. Those buttons were
positioned right over my ass, and my heart sped up when I
realized that Samuel would soon see me like no one had
ever seen me, half naked with only tiny lace panties. He
kept opening my dress, but his fingers lingered often now,
soft against my skin.
 “Done,” he said with a slightly rougher quality to his
voice that I couldn’t place.
I lifted my head a few inches and peered over my
shoulder at him. “Thank you.”
Samuel dragged his eyes up from where his hands still
rested on my backside, half on the fabric of my dress, half
against my skin. He gave a tense nod. For a moment,
neither of us said anything, and my confusion rose because
his expression was one I’d never seen on his or any man’s
face before.
“Why don’t you turn on your back? Then I can help you
out of your dress.”
My breath stilled in my throat. I could have pulled the
dress down myself at this point, but I nodded and rolled
over on my back. Samuel’s eyes slid along my body before
he stood and bent over me, grabbing the straps of my
dress. My breathing quickened with nerves. Samuel gazed
into my eyes, noticing of course, and he didn’t look away
when he slid the straps down my arms. He halted briefly
before hooking his fingers under my neckline and slowly
pushing the dress down.
Surprise followed by something darker flashed in his eyes
when he saw that I wasn’t wearing a bra. The dress didn’t
allow for one.
My nipples puckered, and goose bumps covered my body.
I resisted the urge to cover myself and lay still under
Samuel’s steady gaze. I wasn’t self-conscious about this
part of my body, and his lingering attention filled me with a
strange warmth. He pushed the dress farther down along
my legs until I lay before him in nothing but my panties. His
eyes traced my legs. They didn’t look different from other
people’s legs, a little less in control and less muscled, but
nothing was obvious when I lay like this. They filled me with
insecurity anyway.
He pulled his eyes away from my body, and
disappointment filled me. I’d tried to keep my expectations
low so as not to be disappointed, but I’d still secretly hoped
for a real wedding night.
“We should talk,” Samuel murmured.
I nodded, swallowing hard, barely able to look him in the
eye. I knew what was coming. He’d now explain to me that
he couldn’t be with me because he just wasn’t attracted to
me. I had expected something like that. Ours wouldn’t be
the first fake marriage.
I reached for my nightgown. “I can—” I was about to tell
him that I could dress myself in my nightgown before we
had this talk, as my nakedness didn’t serve any other
purpose than to make me feel even more vulnerable.
Samuel stopped my hand with a gentle touch.
I frowned at him, confused and acutely aware of his
dressed state and how close to my mostly naked body he
was. “You don’t have to justify yourself,” I whispered. “Don’t
give me any long-winded explanations.”
Samuel narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “I’m not
sure what you’re saying.”
I swallowed, feeling almost sick from embarrassment and
hurt. Did I really have to spell it out for him? “I don’t expect
you to consummate our marriage if you’re not attracted to
me. I realize men can’t just fake being attracted to
someone.” I crossed my arms over my breasts, wishing I
could walk and make a quick escape.
Samuel leaned back slightly, his brows climbing his
forehead. He shook his head, looking as if I’d lost my mind.
“You think this talk is about me not wanting to have sex with
you?”
I blinked. His half-amused, half-aghast tone threw me
completely off.
“Trust me, that’s not the case, and I won’t have to fake
being attracted to you.”
“Okay,” I said hesitantly. “Then what did you want to talk
about?”
 He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes trailing over my
panties, my exposed stomach, and my hands still clutching
my breasts. “I wanted to make sure I’m not taking
advantage of you.”
Now it was my turn to be completely taken aback until it
dawned on me what he meant. “Because I’m in a
wheelchair, you worry wanting to sleep with me is taking
advantage of me?”
“Maybe.” He paused, his frown deepening. “And I don’t
want to hurt you. You are more vulnerable than other
women, so it crossed my mind that I might have to be more
careful because of your injuries.”
I bit my lip. Maybe the mostly faded scars on my back,
hips, and legs had caused him to worry, and I found it
incredibly touching that he was trying to make sure that I
would be okay. “You don’t have to treat me differently. I’m
not breakable, and my injuries were treated properly, so
they don’t cause me much trouble anymore. I’m not any
different from other women. The wheelchair doesn’t mean I
feel differently or that I don’t feel desire. I’m your wife, a
woman, a person. The wheelchair doesn’t define who I am.”
“All right,” Samuel said in a low voice, moving a bit
closer. “Then I’ll cut to the chase. I want to have sex with
my wife tonight. What about you?”
Boom. I stared at him. I knew he meant me, but it took a
few heartbeats to sink in. My throat became inexplicably
dry. I’d fantasized about it, but I hadn’t really thought it
would happen. Now that I realized it would really happen,
my nerves crashed down on me. “I-I…”
“It’s okay if you say no.”
“No,” I blurted. “I mean, yes.” I shook my head, feeling a
bit lightheaded.
Samuel touched my neck lightly, a gesture that calmed
and excited me at the same time.
“I-I want to.”
 “Don’t think. Let me handle it,” Samuel murmured,
sounding reassuringly confident.
The overthinker in me protested, but for once, I didn’t
listen. I only nodded. Samuel oozed control and calm.
Samuel removed his jacket with utter poise, then
unfastened his gun holster and put it down on the
nightstand. He climbed on the bed, and suddenly, he leaned
over me, his face taking up my vision, and his mouth came
down on mine, kissing me. Kissing me like he meant it, not
hesitant and restrained, but firm and demanding, and before
I could process what was happening, his tongue found mine
and tasted me, teased me, filled me with a fire I had been
unfamiliar with. He climbed on top of me, his weight
pressing me into the mattress, surrounding me with his
warmth and scent and strength.
Flames of need licked at my belly, making me ache in a
way I’d never experienced. When he finally pulled back, his
breathing harsh, his eyes dark and full of desire, I felt like
he’d breathed life into me. He looked at me like I was the
most desirable woman on this planet.
His hand brushed my shoulder before moving to my rib
cage and my hands, which were still pressed against my
breasts. He looked me in the eyes as he pulled one hand,
then the other away, laying me bare.
I swallowed, my breath shaky.
“You can say no any time,” he rasped. I didn’t say
anything. I didn’t think I could get a word out of my tight
throat. I was so nervous and excited like never before.
His gaze slid lower, down to my puckered nipples, then
his thumb stroked the underside of my breast. The touch
was light and gentle as his fingers traced the curve of my
breasts almost reverently. He lifted his head, and his blue
eyes searched mine. Did he think I’d stop him?
Even if I was nervous, even if I wasn’t sure I was ready
for what he wanted, I was too high on the look of hunger on
his face to leave it unfulfilled.
 I stared back at him, my tongue too heavy to speak the
actual words—to tell him I wanted this, I wanted him—but
he must have seen it in my face, probably from years of
experience with countless women. His palm covered my
breast, and his mouth claimed mine once more.
His fingers teased my nipple, rubbing it between them,
sending a delicious tingling through my core, which
intensified with every swirl of Samuel’s tongue in my mouth.
I lay motionless, not because my body forced me but
because Samuel rendered me as such.
He didn’t leave me time for doubt or fear as he pulled
away from my mouth and latched onto my nipple.
I let out a surprised gasp at the feel of his hot, wet
tongue pressing against my nipple, circling it, of his teeth
grazing my sensitive skin. My fingers found the back of his
head, holding on to him almost desperately as I gasped and
trembled, completely overwhelmed. The feel of his crisp suit
against my bare arms and belly was strangely erotic. He
moved from one breast to the next before he made his way
down my body, nibbling and kissing, but when he reached
my hip bone, I tensed, worried he’d touch my legs, legs that
weren’t as sensitive as that of others.
Samuel peered up at me as he caressed from my calf up
to my thigh. I distantly felt the touch in some places, mostly
my thighs, like a dull pressure, but it wasn’t strong, and in
other places, I didn’t feel anything at all.
I considered faking sensations, but again, Samuel acted
before I could. His touch became firmer as he kneaded my
upper thighs, and finally, I felt it everywhere, especially
deep in my core, as if my head had finally caught up. He
lowered his head and pressed a kiss to my thigh as his eyes
regarded my face, gauging my reaction. I saw the kiss more
than I felt it, but by seeing it, seeing Samuel’s beautiful face
against my thigh, my body reacted with a flood of desire. He
bit down lightly on my skin, and I felt that in my core like a
shock wave of arousal. My eyes widened, stunned and
helpless in his hands.
His fingers hooked in my panties, and he pulled them
down. Heat filled my cheeks from the intense look in his
eyes as he raised them from my center to my face. Never
taking his gaze off me, he gripped my upper thigh and
parted me. I should have looked away, but I couldn’t bring
myself to. I wanted to watch the hunger in Samuel’s eyes as
he looked at me. He dragged his thumb along my crease,
and I sucked in a startled breath, too caught up in the
sensation to be embarrassed because my body didn’t react
as easily.
He rubbed my folds very lightly, then pushed between
them. I could feel that I was only slightly wet and worried
that he’d be frustrated with my lack of reaction, but Samuel
dipped the pad of his thumb into me, causing me to gasp
again. He began to draw out my arousal and spread it on my
folds and clit, dip and swirl, dip and swirl, over and over
again until I was panting and ready, even without lubricant.
He pushed his thumb into me once more, but this time, he
didn’t pull it back out. Instead, he started circling while his
two fingers stroked my clit. I stared at his strong hand, at
the fingers giving me pleasure. I could feel every movement
as if he was tugging at my nerve endings like a puppet
master.
It was indescribable, and I clung to the blankets, panting,
gasping, losing control of my body and the sounds coming
from my mouth.
“Good,” he encouraged in a low voice. “You’re doing very
good, Emma.”
His praise sent a new flood of arousal through me. He
pulled out his thumb and brushed two fingers over my
opening. I tensed, waiting for the discomfort, but Samuel
held my gaze as he began rubbing my clit with his thumb,
making me pant once more before he began to ease his
fingers into me. My brows snatched together at the
stretching sensation. It wasn’t painful, but definitely
uncomfortable.
“Remember, you can say stop anytime,” he reminded me
again.
“I know,” I pressed out, slightly annoyed because I didn’t
want him to treat me like a porcelain doll.
“You’re only eighteen, Emma. You’re very inexperienced,
so I treat you how a good husband should treat his young
virgin bride, but trust me, no part of me wants to stop.”
His words made me flush, but then he pushed his fingers
deeper into me and pressed harder against my clit, and any
sane thought left my mind. Silence settled over us except
for my pants and moans and Samuel’s deep breathing. I
could feel my control slipping more and more as my
pleasure mounted.
I bit my lip, and tension shot through my belly as waves
of pleasure radiated from my center all through my body.
Samuel looked up, his intense gaze focusing on my face. In
the throes of my orgasm, I was unable to look away, to do
anything but allow my body to run the show and ride the
waves of pleasure. Samuel watched me the entire time, only
briefly averting his gaze to watch his fingers on me, in me.
He still moved them, but slower, his thumb only lightly
circling my sensitive clit. I was lost in the sensations,
amazed at my body, at his ability to allow me this.
His fingers kept up their teasing, allowing me to relish the
pleasurable aftermath of my release. Then he pushed off
me, straightening to his full impressive height, and started
undressing. My eyes followed his progress, terrified and
excited, as he shed one piece of clothing after the other
until he stood before me completely naked. I exhaled when I
caught sight of his erection, exhilarated that I had done this
to him, but at the same time scared of having him in me. He
was so much bigger than two fingers, which had already
been uncomfortable.
 Sleeping with someone, with him, had always been such
an abstract concept. For a long time, I hadn’t thought it
would happen to me at all. I’d never felt more woman than I
did at this moment, strangely empowered by my body’s
reaction.
Samuel climbed back on the bed. “Is this what you
want?”
What I wanted? My body wanted every part of Samuel
and had never felt a desire more potent. My head wanted
love and affection, wanted the fantasy version of how a first
time was supposed to be. I wasn’t a dreamer.
“Yes,” I breathed out, half tempted to ask him the same
question. He gave a curt nod before he pushed my legs
apart so he could settle between them. His actions were
very effective, considerate, and kind, but they weren’t
affectionate. I shut my head down, knowing full well these
thoughts weren’t going to help. He lowered himself to his
elbows. My breaths came faster, and my heart thundered in
my chest when I felt a light pressure. This was it.
Samuel held my gaze and brushed his lips across mine in
a surprising act of gentleness before he started to push in. I
clung to his back and gasped against his mouth from pain
this time. I forced myself to relax. Fighting the pain would
only make it worse. I knew all about pain, and this was
nothing in comparison. His expression became strained as
he entered me slowly, then paused when he was inside me.
I shivered, trying to get used to the intense stretching
sensation.
Samuel looked at my face, then did the first light thrust. I
winced, my breath hitching. He kept moving very slowly, his
eyes on me.
Maybe I should have been embarrassed by his
continuous gaze, but he was so calm and confident that it
helped with my own nerves.
His thrusts soon became harder, faster, and the twinge
turned into a throbbing pain, but I kissed him and held back
the whimpers because I’d waited for this moment. Maybe I
was still trying to prove everyone who thought I couldn’t
lead a normal life wrong.
He came with a groan and shudder, and I felt him release
into me, felt his twitch and his muscles softening. For a
moment, he remained in me, on me, but then he rolled off,
his chest heaving.
I turned my head toward him, my breath coming in short,
stunned exhales as the reality of what just happened set in.
He’d claimed me and had enjoyed it from the look of it. I
could have laughed and cried from joy despite the throbbing
between my thighs. I wanted to scream at the people who’d
thought this marriage would never come to be.
Samuel closed his eyes with a sigh, and I allowed myself
to trace his body with my eyes—his wide chest, his ripped
stomach, narrow waist, and the trimmed dark blond hair
around his half-erect cock. His thighs and erection were
smeared with my blood, causing me to flush.
I wanted to touch him with a despaired longing I was
entirely unfamiliar with, but he didn’t feel like mine to touch
yet. I was his, by law, by tradition, and because he’d
claimed me as such, but he didn’t feel like mine. I wondered
if he ever would.
Pleasure hummed dully in my body. When I’d caught my
breath, I sat up. I needed to clean up. The proof of Emma’s
innocence stained my legs and the sheets. I could feel her
eyes on me. When I met her gaze, she flushed and smiled
shyly. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice still rough with lust.
Emma hadn’t been very vocal about her pain, but looking
at my cock and her thighs, I couldn’t imagine she hadn’t
been in pain. Maybe I should have been more careful, but a
primal part had taken control, spurred on by the knowledge
that I was the first to claim her.
She gave a small nod.
She was a beautiful girl, a beautiful woman, now my wife.
I wished fate hadn’t shackled her to me. So much darkness
lay in her past, and I carried too much darkness for it not to
stain her future.
She reminded me of a deer in the headlights as she lay
beside me, still gloriously naked, her skin flushed from what
we’d done. She was gorgeous, and my desire had run the
show the moment I’d seen her half-naked body. “Do you
need anything?”
She sat up with a wince, her eyes taking in her smeared
thighs. “I need to wash myself.”
“I’m going to take a shower. I can take you with me.”
Surprise crossed her face. She gave a small nod and
smiled gratefully. Then her expression changed. “I can
shower by myself.”
“I know. But we might as well do it together.”
I stood and picked her up. To my surprise, my body was
already asking for more. But I ignored its call and carried
Emma into the bathroom, then stepped into the shower with
her. I tried to turn on the water but needed my hands to
hold her up.
“Let me,” she said and turned the shower on. The first
spray of water was ice cold, as it always took a few seconds
to warm up. I had spent only a couple of nights in the place
to look for possible improvements before we moved in
together, but that was one thing I’d learned quickly. Emma
sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers clamping around my
bicep as her wide eyes met mine. I chuckled at her shock.
She relaxed when the water finally turned warm and pursed
her lips.
“You could have warned me,” she said with a small, coy
smile.
“Who would have thought that a bit of cold water would
make you scream louder than sex with me.”
Her lips fell open. I hadn’t intended to show my true
personality to Emma so shortly after our wedding, but
keeping up a front in private was hard work, and I was
exhausted from all the fake pleasantries of the day.
I could tell that she misunderstood my comment from the
shock and worry in her eyes. I smirked and bent closer. “I
didn’t mean from pain, Emma. I’m not into that. Nothing is
better than a scream in pleasure.”
 “Oh.” Her cheeks became an even darker shade of red. I
angled our bodies so the water reached her thighs and
could wash away the blood there.
“You can set me down. That way, I can clean up.”
I slowly put her down but kept a steadying hand on her
waist. She held my arm as she began to lather herself with
my shower gel, an herby scent that helped me wake up in
the morning. She hissed when she washed herself between
her legs.
“What is this?” she asked with a curious look up at me.
I grimaced. “This gives you a fresh kick.”
She quickly washed off the remaining foam and watching
her fingers clean her pussy sent a flood of blood straight to
my cock. She noticed my gaze and flushed a bright red. I
looked away and washed my face, forcing my thoughts
away from Emma’s naked body.
Tomorrow, our families would have lunch together, and
afterward, there’d hopefully be some time to discuss new
ways to destroy the Falcone’s empire. Too much time had
already been wasted on wedding planning—ours and
Danilo’s to my sister. It was time to return our focus to
business.
“Are you done?” I asked her with a sideways glance,
trying to stay on track and not lose myself in her beauty
again.
“Yes,” she said, quieter than before. I wasn’t sure what
caused her sudden mood swing.
I stepped out of the shower and slung a towel around my
waist before I grabbed one for Emma and wrapped it around
her shoulders, tugging her in. She peered up at me, her
expressive brown eyes locking on mine. This woman had so
much love to give. One look at her told me that and more.
She hoped what we had could turn into a loving marriage.
Emma was lovable. If I allowed it, I could see myself
falling for her one day. But for that to happen, I would have
to let her in. I would have to let her see the darkness of the
past, the darkness I still carried with me. Could she bear the
heavy guilt I carried? Most days, it was too heavy even for
my shoulders. I released her shoulders, my expression
closing off. “We should sleep now.”
She gave me a tight smile. “I need to get ready. Give me
a moment.”
I left the bathroom. I put on pajama bottoms, then waited
for Emma to emerge. I wasn’t sure if she’d need my help or
if she even wanted it. Emma was used to handling things
alone. The door opened, and Emma appeared, holding the
doorframe to steady herself. She wore a gold silk nightgown
and had her long hair braided so it fell over her shoulder.
“Can you bring me my wheelchair?”
I pushed it over to her. “I could carry you again.”
“I don’t want to impose on your kindness.”
Emma was definitely colder than before. Maybe she
realized that a bond built on mutual respect was better than
hoping for love. “I’m your husband. It’s my job to be kind to
you.”
Her face became even more closed off. I realized my
choice of words had been less than clever. I rolled the
wheelchair over to her. She lowered herself into her
wheelchair and moved it toward the bed, then she engaged
the brake and stood. She climbed into bed. I joined her. She
turned to me with a stubborn gleam in her eyes. “I’m not a
job. I have worked too hard for my independence to be an
obligation to anyone.”
I frowned. “I never called you an obligation, and I realize
my choice of words was inapt. I was referencing our
wedding vows. It’s my duty as your husband to treat you
well and take care of you.”
“As is my duty. This isn’t a one-way street.”
“I know. But I have a feeling you’re better at being kind
and taking care of people than I am. I’m better at ruining
lives.”
 She pursed her lips, questions filling her eyes. Thankfully,
she didn’t voice them. “We both can do our best. This is only
the beginning of our marriage. We’ll have a lot of time to
figure this out together.”

I woke to the sound of gentle breathing. The memories of

last night filtered through my sleepy brain, and I had to
stifle a smile. When I opened my eyes, the room was still
mostly dark because the curtains were drawn. I blinked and
turned my head toward the sound of breathing. Samuel lay
with his muscled back turned to me. The blanket pooled
around his hip, allowing me to take him in. Three names
were tattooed on his back. It was the position where his
heart was. For a moment, I worried they were names of
women he’d perhaps dated over the years, though it
seemed strange to keep a list of previous lovers. Not to
mention that I knew from the gossip mill that Samuel had
been with more than three women. Yet he hadn’t been with
any of them long enough to warrant a permanent place for
their name on his skin.
When I scanned the names, relief settled in me. Enea,
Domenico, and Arlo must have been friends who’d died over
the years. As a Made Man, death was always a close
companion. Several scars covered his back, reminding me
that he too had gotten close to death before. I knew he’d
been captured by the Camorra when he’d tried to save his
twin.
He stirred suddenly and rolled over. I tried to pretend I
had been waking up too and not staring at him. His blond
hair was tousled from sleep. He looked cute and not as
distant as usual. I resisted the urge to touch him even
though I really wanted to.
“Morning,” I said with a hesitant smile. What was I
supposed to talk about? Was Samuel a morning person? Or
did he prefer silence because he was a grump?
“Do you need help?” Samuel asked, his voice still rough
from sleep. He motioned to my wheelchair beside the bed.
I gave him a tight smile. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” He
thought I required constant support. I didn’t want to blame
him for his misconception. Many people who’d never lived
with a disabled person felt they needed constant help. Some
people actually did, but I could get through my daily routine
with minimal support. The only thing I usually needed help
with were things on the upper shelves.
He sat up.
“The names on your back, are they of dead friends?”
Samuel’s face hardened, a shadow of the past flitting
through his eyes. “Of friends who died because of me.”
My lips parted in surprise. I could tell it was a topic
Samuel didn’t want to talk about. I nodded and stopped
myself from asking more questions. Maybe I’d ask Danilo
about them. He definitely knew the details about Samuel’s
past, especially his rescue mission. But Danilo, too, didn’t
like talking about it as it marked the year in which he’d lost
his fiancée to Remo Falcone.
Maybe one day, Samuel would feel comfortable enough
with me to share the full story.
 “I’ll freshen up and get dressed. Will we have breakfast
together?”
“Sure. I took the day off.”
I got into my wheelchair, acutely aware that Samuel
watched my every move. The tension in his upper body and
the keen attentiveness in his expression made it clear he
was ready to leap out of bed and assist me should I require
his help. It was kind of sweet but also frustrating. I didn’t
want to become someone he had to care for, at least not
beyond what a husband did for his wife. I smoothed out my
nightgown and resolutely gripped the wheels before I moved
toward the bathroom. The door was closed, and I had to
angle my wheelchair to the side to push it open. Samuel
climbed to his feet, obviously thinking he needed to open
the door for me.
I sent him another smile before I disappeared inside the
bathroom. The moment I stopped in front of the sink,
Samuel appeared in the doorway. I had to stifle my laughter,
though I also felt a little like screaming. Clearing my throat, I
gathered my courage and said, “You don’t have to hover,
you know? I’m an adult. The wheelchair doesn’t mean I
can’t handle things on my own. You can treat me like you
would any other woman.”
I cringed at my last words.
Samuel frowned. “You are my wife, and I want to take
care of you.”
“That’s really nice, and I appreciate it, but unless I ask for
help, I can do it on my own.”
Samuel nodded. Still, I wasn’t sure if it had really gotten
through to him. Maybe he’d actually need to see me handle
things to believe I could. Mobsters could be stubborn and
overprotective. I had to admit a part of me was pleased that
Samuel took our marriage serious enough to want to make
good on his promise, but I also knew I’d get frustrated very
quickly if he treated me like a child. I wanted to be a partner
on equal footing, which was hard enough in our traditional
world.
“Do you want to be alone, or can I brush my teeth?”
“You can stay.”
He came in and stopped in front of the other sink. I still
wasn’t sure if he didn’t use the toothbrushing excuse to
keep an eye on me. Maybe I would have been annoyed if
that didn’t give me the chance to admire his breathtaking
body. Yesterday, I’d been too overwhelmed by the situation
to pay much attention, but now I could really savor every
inch of Samuel. He was only in low-hanging silk pajama
bottoms, and I kept checking out his six-pack and the sexy
V.
I was still slightly sore from yesterday, but seeing
Samuel, I wouldn’t have said no to a repeat performance.
Our eyes met, and my cheeks heated at being caught ogling
him. I couldn’t help but wonder if there would be an encore.
Maybe Samuel had only done his duty last night and
wouldn’t try to sleep with me again. Perhaps he’d pick a
mistress to fulfill his bodily needs. Maybe he already had
one. I wasn’t naive. It wasn’t uncommon for men in our
world to have a mistress, especially if they were as good-
looking and powerful as Samuel. I’d felt sexy last night.
Samuel made me feel that way with his touch, but did that
mean he would be faithful?
It would crush me if he were one of those men who
cheated because they had plenty of opportunity.
I hated this train of thought and didn’t even want to
consider it. I wheeled out of the bathroom and grabbed a
cute blush sundress for the day, plus pointy flat pumps. I
was already dressed when Samuel came out.
I took the elevator to the ground floor while Samuel
headed down the stairs. The breakfast table had already
been set for the two of us, and pastries, fruit, and yogurt
parfaits had been set up in the center.
 The moment Samuel and I had taken our places across
from each other at one end of the table, a woman who I
assumed was the cook came in. She was tall and curvy and
in her late thirties or early forties, with kind eyes and curly
brown hair in a ponytail.
“Good morning. What would you like for breakfast?” She
spoke with a heavy Italian accent, so she probably hadn’t
been in the States very long.
I glanced at the pastries and parfait. “We have a good
selection,” I said in Italian because I missed speaking it.
Samuel, too, seemed unsure what she meant, and he too
switched to Italian. “This is Azzurra. She comes highly
recommended from my parents’ cook. What is for
breakfast?”
I loved hearing Samuel talk in Italian. We’d mostly talked
in English so far, but I decided I found his voice even sexier
in Italian.
“I can prepare whatever you like. If you prefer American
style, I can make egg dishes, waffles, pancakes.”
I grabbed a maritozzo, a traditional Italian sweet bun
filled with cream. “I personally prefer a cornetto, brioche, or
maritozzo for breakfast, and of course a cappuccino.”
Azzurra gave an approving nod. I hesitated. I didn’t want
to be nosy, but I was curious. “Where are you from? I’m
unfamiliar with your accent.”
“I was born in a very small village in the Maremma
region.”
“Why did you come here?”
“My son wanted to move here to join the Outfit. I’m a
widow and only have him, so I came along. It’s been two
years.”
Samuel nodded. “He’s hardworking and brave.”
Azzurra gave a proud smile. “I’ll leave you alone now. If
you need anything, ring the bell.”
She turned and moved out, giving us privacy. I knew she
meant well. After all, this was the morning after our wedding
night, but speaking with her was so much easier than
talking to Samuel.
Samuel picked up a cornetto, bit into it, then regarded
me curiously. “Some people don’t care about the people
who work for them.”
My lips pinched. “I want to know who’s helping out in our
house. These are people with stories, and I want to get to
know them.”
“I agree,” he said, then took a sip from his cappuccino.
His phone lay beside him. Messages and emails kept
popping up, but he ignored them, just like the newspaper
that rested beside it.
“If you have important business to conduct, I don’t mind,
you know?” I motioned to his phone. “Danilo always
checked emails at the dining table.” Eventually, I too had
chatted with Giorgia or other friends during our meals.
Samuel gave a terse shake of his head. “It’s rude. At
home, we tried to focus on the people at the table with us. I
work all day. During meals, I’m off.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” I liked the idea of being one hundred
percent present during a meal, focusing on eye contact and
conversation, even if it would be awkward initially because
Samuel and I were near strangers. “But how do you not miss
anything urgent?”
Samuel smirked. “Is that how Danilo justified being on
the phone all the damn time?”
I furrowed my brows. “Yes.” I took a deep breath because
what I had to say next might make Samuel angry, and
maybe I shouldn’t do that as a newlywed wife, but I didn’t
want to have to swallow down when I felt uncomfortable. “I
know you don’t like my brother, and he doesn’t like you, but
could you at least try not to bash him constantly? If not for
me, then at least for Sofia. We’re family now.”
Samuel sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You’re right.
He’s your brother, and differences aside, he always took
good care of you. Except for agreeing to this marriage.”
 I blinked. “Excuse me? Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m not a good deal, and you’ll realize it one
day.”
“You could just tell me now.”
He chuckled without any mirth. “I could, but I won’t.
Because I don’t want to ruin this marriage before it’s really
started.”
“I’d like this marriage to work out. Don’t you?”
“I do,” he said quietly, but I could hear the doubt in his
voice.
I wasn’t sure why I had told Emma I was a bad deal. It was
true, but telling her didn’t serve any purpose. She sipped
her cappuccino silently, obviously frustrated. She had every
right to be. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss this topic more,
so I decided to distract her. “How would you like a tour of
the house and garden now?”
She glanced up and gave me a small smile. “I’d love
that.”
I rose to my feet and waited for her to wheel back from
the table. “Would you like me to push you?” In our short
interactions so far, I’d quickly realized that Emma liked her
independence. I had no intention of coddling her. I was
relieved that she seemed much tougher than I’d thought.
Maybe she could handle all the shit that came with being
married to me.
“I’ll follow you. I’d like to see your face when you tell me
about the house.”
 “Last night was only the third night I spent here, so I
don’t know that much more about its hidden corners than
you do.”
She tilted her head. “You bought the house a while ago.
Why didn’t you move sooner?”
I could have lied and told her my father preferred to have
me close for business reasons, but the truth was simple. “It
might seem odd, but I prefer company. Living alone in a
house didn’t really seem appealing to me. I had all the
freedom I wanted at my parents’ house, so I stayed.”
Emma nodded. “That makes sense. You have a hard job,
so having family at home afterward is important.”
I nodded. After tough days, I’d often have a drink with
Dad in the office.
“You can rely on me, Samuel. I won’t ever break your
trust.” She flushed. As usual, Emma looked lovely, sweet,
and sexy.
I motioned to the front window. “Let’s start with the view
from the porch.” I strode toward the double doors and
swung them open. The view over the lake was spectacular.
Emma rolled out, and her entire face lit up. She pointed at
the wide but narrow fireplace in front of two comfy deck
chairs.
“It’s gas, but it’s cozy.” I turned it on with a remote, and
the flames flickered up at once. It wasn’t as nice in bright
daylight as it was in the dark.
“You still enjoy swimming?” I asked. I remembered from
our trip to the Cavallaro mansion two years ago that she’d
been ecstatic about swimming in the lake there. I had only
been there to guard my sister Sofia back then and had
hardly talked to Emma at all. Maybe I should have made an
effort.
“Yes, I went to an indoor swimming pool once a week
when I still lived in Indianapolis. I hope I can find a good
place to swim here.”
 “I have a small surprise.” I led Emma through the dining
area followed by the vast living area with a wood fireplace
to the wide double doors on the back of the mansion
overlooking the sprawling backyard.
I opened those doors, and Emma’s eyes widened in utter
shock as they took in the big swimming pool a few steps
below the terrace. A ramp had been installed so Emma
could easily move down to that level.
“That isn’t a small surprise. It’s huge!” she said. She
reached for my hand and squeezed, her eyes emotional.
“For being such a bad deal, you’re doing lots of thoughtful
things. It’s misleading.”
I cleared my throat. “It’s nothing.”
She shook her head and released me, then moved down
the ramp to take a closer look at the pool. “I wish I could
take a dip right away.”
“It’s still two hours before our families arrive. Plenty of
time.”
“Not if I have to shower, then style my hair afterward and
put on fresh makeup.”
I made a clueless face. Emma giggled and allowed her
eyes to take in the rest of the garden: an immaculate lawn,
a few perfectly round bushes, a paved path, and a few
flower beds with white flowers.
“I can’t wait to have a garden being lived in, played in.
This looks like an exhibition garden.”
For a moment, longing reflected on Emma’s face, but
then she turned to me with a smile. “Can you show me the
rest? Even the kitchen?”
I nodded and led her back inside. We ended our tour in
the kitchen, where Azzurra was busy cooking up a feast for
lunch. I took a deep breath, taking in the delicious scents.
Emma did the same and let out a sigh. “That smells
delicious. What is it?”
Azzurra pointed at the pots. “As primi, tortelli al ragú will
be served.” Emma wheeled closer to the stove.
 “What’s the filling?”
On the counter, freshly made tortellini were lined up.
“Ricotta and spinach.”
“Could I try the meat sauce?”
“Of course!” Azzurra dipped a spoon into the sauce and
handed it to Emma, who pushed it into her mouth and licked
it clean, sending images of a very different nature through
my head. She moaned, and the images became even more
explicit.
“This is delicious!”
Azzurra beamed and opened the oven. “Secondi will be
cinghiale alla cacciatore.”
“My father loves wild boar stew,” I said.
“I do too,” Emma said delightedly.
“What about you, Mr. Mione?”
“Samuel,” I corrected as I’d done a few times before. “I
love it too but not with the same childhood fervor as my
father.”
Emma wheeled past Azzurra toward a chocolate cake.
“Torta al cioccolato!”
Her excited expression made me laugh. “I assume you
like chocolate?”
“I love chocolate. In any shape and form.”
I made a mental note to add chocolate truffles to the list
of gifts Emma would receive—not just for special days but
also when I messed up.
The lunch with our families was relaxed. Even Danilo and
Samuel managed civilized conversation throughout the
entire meal. Of course, Danilo kept throwing me searching
looks. The moment we were alone, he would definitely
inquire whether Samuel was treating me right.
I hadn’t eaten as much of the first two courses as I could
have because I wanted to leave some room for the dessert.
When Azzurra served the cake, I could barely restrain
myself. Luckily, she had more manners than me and served
our guests first. Samuel sent me a knowing look, and I
flushed.
The cake was as delicious as I’d expected. Azzurra had
sprinkled pine nuts on top, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she’d
even added some ground pine nut to the dough. I closed my
eyes to really savor the richness of the chocolate. When I
opened my eyes, Samuel watched me with an intense look
that made me blush hard.
After lunch, Ines, Sofia, and I moved out to the porch. I
turned on the gas fireplace. We looked out over the lake and
allowed the silence to settle around us for a few minutes.
The men had retreated to Samuel’s office, a big room with a
desk, cozy leather couches, and a fireplace, to discuss
business and probably have a drink.
Azzurra came out. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Could you ask my husband to make me a hanky-panky?
I’m sure Samuel has everything it needs in his office.”
My eyebrows shot up. I had a very different image in
mind when I thought about hanky-panky.
Azzurra nodded, then glanced at us.
“Amaretto sour for me. Samuel can make it,” Sofia said
without missing a beat despite Ines’s curious look.
I had drunk two glasses of wine for lunch, so I definitely
couldn’t have anything else. However, I didn’t want to be
the only one who didn’t order anything. “Uhh…what would
you recommend?”
Azzurra looked like a deer in the headlights. “Espresso
martini?”
I nodded, even if I’d never had one before, and it
sounded like a combination for sleepless nights.
Azzurra disappeared.
Ines sighed. “You’re both under twenty-one. I’m pretty
sure I should stop you from drinking.”
Sofia huffed. “We can be married off to men ten years
our senior who kill for fun and work, and we can bear their
babies. I think it’s fine, Mom.” She hadn’t said it meanly, but
I didn’t miss the bitter note in her tone.
What was Danilo doing? Sofia was such a sweet and kind
girl. They had seemed to get along better yesterday and
today.
Ines sighed again. “I hope you’re at least happy with your
marriage so far?”
I blushed. What could I say? “Samuel’s been very kind so
far.”
Sofia gave me a doubtful look, but Ines seemed relieved
to hear it.
Not long after, Azzurra returned with a tablet and three
glasses.
 “You can go home now. You worked so hard today,” I said
with a grateful smile as I took the espresso martini.
Azzurra gave a small nod and slipped away.
Ines, Sofia, and I clinked glasses and then took a sip. The
cocktail was delicious but way too strong for me. I put it
down on the side table. I didn’t want to risk being drunk on
our second night as a married couple. Though some liquid
courage wouldn’t be the worst. I’d really love to be intimate
with Samuel again, even if I was still a little sore, but I
wasn’t sure if he’d initiate anything.
Danilo appeared in the doorway. Sofia looked up at him
with a pinched expression. “Are we leaving already?”
“No,” he said matter-of-factly, as warm as a piece of
brick. His eyes found mine. “I’d like to talk to you, Emma.”
I stifled a small smile. I would have been surprised if that
wouldn’t have been the case, but I would have to give him a
piece of my mind regarding Sofia. If he thought he could
meddle in my marriage, then he couldn’t expect me not to
do the same with his.
I followed Danilo into the living room. He turned to me,
his expression softer but also filled with a deep brotherly
concern. “Is there anything I should know?”
I raised my eyebrows, amused. “I’m sure there are plenty
of things in the world you should show a greater interest in.”
Danilo moved closer and got down on his haunches in
front of me. “Last night, I couldn’t stop wondering if I should
have stopped this marriage from happening.”
“You were the one who agreed to it in the first place,
Danilo.”
His expression became wary. “Did he treat you right?”
A blush crept up my throat and cheeks. I couldn’t hold
Danilo’s gaze. “He treated me like a wife should be treated
by her husband.”
“That doesn’t constitute for much in our world,” he
drawled. “If he hurt—”
 Danilo shot to his feet before Samuel even spoke up. He
stood in the doorway. Unlike my brother, I hadn’t heard him
approach.
Samuel’s eyes locked on my brother as he strode into the
living room in long, confident strides. “I ask you not to
shove your nose into my private business.” Samuel stopped
in front of my brother. They were the same height. The air
bristled with their dominance as they tried to stare each
other down. It was clear they had a long history of these
stare downs. Samuel smiled in a way that made me
nervous. “But I can assure you I took all the necessary
precautions to hurt your sister as little as possible on her
first night.”
Boom. My mouth fell open, and blood shot so rapidly into
my face, I was sure I would combust. Did he really just say
that in front of my brother?
Danilo rocked forward as if he was going to attack
Samuel, who braced himself. Then both men looked at me,
and my brother straightened, righted his tie, and turned to
me. He kissed my forehead and strode out without another
word.
Samuel regarded me coolly. He pushed his hands into his
pants. “I know this was quite embarrassing for you. But your
brother has dropped very similar comments about both my
sisters in the past, so it was time he got a taste of his own
medicine.”
I gave him a doubtful look. “Do you always share details
like that with other men?” I felt very uncomfortable thinking
that other men would know about what happened behind
closed doors.
Samuel stepped up to me and touched my shoulder. “No.
I don’t intend to share any kind of information about our life,
especially what happens in our bedroom with others.”
“Okay.” I could feel my face cooling off. “I would like to
return to Sofia and your mother.”
 Samuel nodded. “I should probably make sure Danilo
doesn’t say anything to my father that causes an
unpleasant atmosphere.”
I scoffed. “Good luck.”

Once our families took their leave, Samuel joined me on the

porch in front of the fireplace. The lights from the other
houses reflected on the surface of the lake like doors to
another sphere.
Samuel had a tumbler with a generous amount of a dark
amber spirit in his hand. I could still feel the gentle buzz
from the wine and that one sip of the espresso martini, but
Samuel obviously could tolerate far more alcohol. He had
drunk four glasses of wine for dinner, plus whatever Danilo,
Pietro, and he had consumed in the office, which likely
hadn’t been little, and now the tumbler. I had to admit I
worried how well his body tolerated the amount of alcohol. It
indicated that it had a lot of practice.
“Danilo said he and Sofia will return to Indianapolis
tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Danilo told me.” I’d hoped he’d spend a few
more days here with me to make the transition easier.
Giorgia had already returned to Indianapolis early in the
morning because her brother needed to get back. And now
my brother, the last link to my old life, will follow tomorrow.
Samuel regarded me with a thoughtful expression over
his glass. “Will you be okay?”
“Yes,” I said firmly. I would be. “I just need to adjust to
my new life.”
 “Whatever you need, tell me. I’ll have a bodyguard in the
house whenever I’m not present. I’ll introduce you tomorrow
morning before I leave for work.”
So soon? I didn’t voice my thoughts. Maybe I shouldn’t
have been surprised. This wasn’t a dramatic love story
where the protagonists couldn’t bear the idea of being
separated.
“I hope he won’t hover. I don’t like to be watched,” I said.
“He’s very good at what he does. He’ll spend most of the
time in the staff room beside the kitchen unless you require
his assistance.”
Samuel glanced at his watch, an elegant, dark blue Patek
Philippe Aquanaut. “I should probably head to bed. I have an
early meeting at eight because of a shipment of slot
machines.”
I stifled a yawn. It was already eleven, and I was usually
an early riser, which meant I went to bed around ten at the
latest. “I’ll come with you.”
Samuel downed his drink and pushed to his feet. He
motioned for me to go first so I moved toward the doors,
which he then held open for me. “Thank you.”
Samuel was being very considerate and polite, and that
was nice in a way, but at the same time, it emphasized that
we were still strangers. This didn’t feel like a married couple
going to bed together. None of the lightheartedness, banter,
and intimacy a normal marriage entailed.
When we arrived in the bedroom, my eyes involuntarily
moved to the bed and what had happened last night. I’d felt
empowered and womanly. It had been a far better first time
than I’d ever dared hope for, and now I wished for more.
Samuel cleared his throat, his gaze intent as it settled on
me. “Go ahead. Get ready first.”
I moved into the bathroom and changed into another off-
white silk nightgown with lace trimming, then returned to
the bedroom. Samuel checked his phone in the middle of
the room, his brows furrowed. His shirt was unbuttoned,
revealing his muscled upper body and the line of dark blond
hair disappearing in his pants. His belt hung loosely around
his waist, and the top button of his pants was open. I wished
I were brave enough to go to him and unzip his pants. Brave
enough to show Samuel what I wanted.
Samuel didn’t notice my entrance immediately. He was
immersed in his phone, but eventually, he looked up and
pushed his phone in his pants. He gave me a distracted
smile and brushed past me into the bathroom.
I wheeled toward the bed and frowned when I spotted his
phone on the nightstand. He had two phones?
Worry and suspicion filled me. I wanted to come up with
an innocent explanation. Many people had a business phone
and one for their private life, but Samuel was a Made Man
and future Underboss, so business was closely interwoven
with his private life. There was no clear line separating the
two.
I tried not to let my imagination run rampant, but a
nagging voice suggested Samuel used a second phone for a
mistress. It wasn’t uncommon for men in our world to have
a mistress. Many of them were there before the marriage.
I could only imagine what my mother would say if I
suggested Samuel had an affair. She’d implore me to turn a
blind eye to it and be happy for this good catch. I took a
deep breath and hoisted myself into the bed. I had half a
mind to call Giorgia, but I didn’t want to wake her with
unfounded suspicions, and Samuel could return any
moment.
I could simply ask Samuel.
Samuel emerged from the bathroom at that moment, but
instead of coming to the bed right away, he walked toward
the walk-in closet and put something in the pocket of the
jacket he would wear tomorrow.
My belly tightened.
When Samuel finally climbed into bed, I couldn’t bring
myself to confront him.
 Instead, I gave him a shaky smile.
He hesitated as if he wanted to say something, but then
he returned my smile. “Sleep well.” Again, he hesitated.
He turned off the light and rolled over to face away from
me.
I swallowed hard, agitated. My stomach churned as if I’d
eaten too much and topped it off with soda.
As expected, we fell asleep on our respective sides of the
bed without any physical contact.
I wasn’t sure when I actually fell asleep. My mind kept
obsessing over Samuel’s second phone. I had to find out
what it was about. I couldn’t confront Samuel if I didn’t have
any hints.
And even then…
Samuel’s alarm woke me. He got up before I had even
managed to open my eyes. Being an early bird was
definitely harder after I had wine.
I sat up and quickly slid into my wheelchair. Samuel
disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.
With a cautious glance at the closed door, I hurried
toward the walk-in closet.
Samuel’s taupe jacket hung from a coat stand. I reached
up and fumbled for the pocket. When I felt something solid, I
tried to reach in. I pushed myself up and finally managed to
grip the phone. I listened closely. The water in the bathroom
was still running. I stared at the screen. When I touched the
screen, I could see the beginning of a Whatsapp message
from a person called F. The message read: When can we see
each other again?
My pulse raced as my thoughts tumbled over each other.
What swipe gesture had Samuel used to unlock his other
phone? Maybe it was the same for this.
I tried an inverted L, but that didn’t work. Then an L with
a 45 degree angle instead of ninety, but still nothing.
The click of the doorknob being turned made me look up.
The shower wasn’t running anymore. I pushed up and
shoved the phone back into the jacket pocket then plopped
down. I didn’t have time to move out of the walk-in closet
though before Samuel walked out of the bathroom. His eyes
moved from the vacant bed to me. His brows puckered. “Are
you looking for something?”
“Uh, I forgot that my clothes still haven’t been moved out
of my luggage.”
I motioned to the three suitcases beside my side of the
bed.
Samuel gave a slow nod. He came toward me, only in
boxers. With the narrow space of the closet, he stood very
close to me as he grabbed his white shirt and suit from the
hangers. After having read the message from F., having him
so close was difficult. I wheeled out so he could dress. I
could feel his eyes on me as I rummaged through the
suitcase, which lay propped up on a suitcase holder.
“I’m in a hurry. I don’t think we’ll have time to have
breakfast together.”
“That’s okay,” I said without looking up from my suitcase
as if I had to solve a difficult math equation and not just pick
an outfit for the day.
“All right,” he said slowly. After a moment of silence, he
finally walked out.
I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes against the
deep sense of despair. I balled my hands to fists and
counted to five until I had a grip on myself. During the
desperate moments of my recovery, I’d often counted to
five, ten, or sometimes even much higher to calm myself.
When I opened my eyes again, I felt more in control.
I picked my favorite summer dress with a floral print and
spaghetti straps. I stayed barefoot, not in the mood to wear
the same shoes as yesterday, and the others were still
downstairs in packages.
Without Samuel at the table, I chatted with Giorgia during
breakfast and told her what I’d witnessed. She messaged
me back at once.
That’s suspicious. But there could still be
another explanation.
Azzurra came in. I hadn’t touched the cornetto on my
plate yet and had only taken a sip of my cappuccino. The
events of the morning had spoiled my appetite.
“Mrs. Mione is here to see you.”
Ines poked her head in behind Azzurra with an apologetic
smile. “Can I come in? I hope I don’t interrupt you?”
“Ines, good morning,” I said in surprise and turned my
phone off. I didn’t want Ines to find out I suspected her son
of infidelity. “Please come in. Do you want to join me for
breakfast?”
Ines came over and kissed my cheeks in greeting before
she sank down across from me in Samuel’s place. “I only
had a fruit salad…” She eyed the assortment of pastries.
“Oh well.” She picked up a cornetto and smiled as she took
a bite.
“Did Samuel ask you to come over to keep an eye on me
because he worried I can’t be alone?” I motioned at the
wheelchair.
Ines smiled, a hint of embarrassment playing across her
face. “He called me this morning and asked if I could come
over to help you put your clothes in the closet.”
“That’s all?”
She let out a laugh. “He’s worried because this is a new
house for you, and you don’t know anyone yet.”
“I’m used to spending lots of time on my own in a house.
I can handle it, especially because Samuel made sure the
house is accessible.”
 “Don’t be mad at him. I’m sure he’ll soon see that you
can handle the situation.”
I definitely wasn’t mad at Samuel for trying to help. I was
angry because of his second phone. I nodded. “Don’t worry,
I’m not. We don’t know each other very well yet. He’ll soon
realize that I’m more than capable of handling myself and
more.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it!” Ines chuckled. “Which is why I
asked the priest in our community if you can help. We have
a sort of self-help group for Made Men and their families
with disabilities that our priest leads.”
“Thank you. If you give me his contact information, I’ll try
to be useful as soon as possible.”

After breakfast, Ines and I moved on to the bedroom. I

realized I still hadn’t seen my bodyguard. Because Samuel
had left so abruptly in the morning, he didn’t introduce me
to him.
“My shoes and most of my bags are still down in the
lobby in boxes,” I said when we entered the bedroom
together.
“I could ask Leo, your bodyguard, if you want. Have you
met him yet?”
“No,” I said, sparing Ines the details of my morning.
“Let me give him a call.” She picked up her phone and
gave him instructions on where to find the boxes. She ended
the call. “He was Sofia’s bodyguard before she married your
brother. Samuel thought it was a good idea to have him
become your personal bodyguard, and I agree. He’s very
discreet, professional, and vigilant. Let me give you his
number. Samuel’s head is always at work. It might be a
while before he remembers to give you the details you need
to really thrive here.”
He had his head with a certain F. too. I tried to push the
thought aside because it was ruining my day. There wasn’t
anything I could do about it now.
Ines put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you not feeling
well?”
“I’m just a little tired. I didn’t sleep all that well.”
A knock on the door interrupted our conversation.
“Come in,” Ines and I said at the same time. She gave
me an apologetic smile and stepped into the background.
“This is your home. I’m sorry.”
I sent her a smile to show her it was okay.
A tall, very bulky man with a neck like a bull came in
carrying two boxes. “Where should I put them?”
“In front of the walk-in closet, please,” I said, motioning
in that direction. He put them down where I pointed, then
turned to me. He wasn’t as young as I’d suspected. Maybe
in his late forties, but he would definitely scare away many
people. He had a buzz cut, and his T-shirt strained over his
muscles. Tattoos of a woman and five children graced his
right arm. I had to admit I never understood why someone
got a detailed portrait of their loved ones tattooed into their
skin. They rarely resembled the real person. They creeped
me out like Madame Tussauds wax figures.
He gave me a broad smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs.
Mione.” He glanced at Ines. “And to see you again, Mrs., uh,
Mione.”
I laughed. “How about you call me Emma? It’s less
confusing.”
“And I’ve told you before that I’m Ines.”
He shrugged.
“How are your children?” Ines asked.
“The boy’s going to give me a heart attack. I should have
been happy with my four girls and not tried for a fifth.”
 I burst out laughing. I could tell he loved his son very
much and wasn’t serious. “How old is he?”
“Seven.” He made a suffering face. “My wife wants
another one, but I told her only if she wants to kill me. I’m
too old.”
“You’re not old! You’re my age,” Ines said.
“I can’t argue with that.”
I grinned, relieved that I had such a nice bodyguard. It
could get awkward if someone sour or moody guarded you
all day.
“Do you need help with unpacking?” he asked, nodding
toward the boxes.
“No, thank you.” I preferred to sort my clothes into the
wardrobe without a male presence.
He tipped an invisible hat and moved outside. “You know
where to find me.”
I turned to Ines once he was gone. “He’s really nice.”
“He was Sofia’s favorite. She had another bodyguard who
shared the job with Leo, but he’s a bit broodier to say it
nicely.” Ines gestured to the boxes. “Should we get started?”
I nodded. I really wanted all of my clothes within reach.
We began with the shoes, then quickly moved on to my
suitcases. When I removed a few dresses that I had packed
for nostalgic reasons, even if I hadn’t worn them in more
than a year, a few photos fell out. Photos of myself before
the accident. Photos of me dancing on stage, photos of me
doing a grand jete, my favorite ballet jump. I swallowed
hard. I had forgotten I’d hidden them beneath my clothes. In
the past, I’d often taken them out and looked at them,
feeling wistful, and a part of me still did. It would probably
never change, but another part longed to dance again. I had
always suppressed any thought of dancing, but since my
wedding, a new desire to dance had formed, and I was
determined to finally give in to it.
Ines cleared her throat, a look of uncertainty on her face.
“Are you okay?”
 I smiled. “I am, yes.” I held up the photos. “I forgot about
these.”
Ines scanned the photos and touched my arm. “I can tell
you did ballet from the way you hold yourself and move
your fingers and arms. You exude elegance.”
“Oh wow, thank you. Did you do ballet?”
“For a while as a girl before my father decided I shouldn’t
wear leotards.”
I nodded. I put the photos into one of the drawers.
“I loved seeing you and Samuel dance. Maybe you could
take lessons? If you miss dancing.”
“I do. I guess I’ll have to think about it.” I decided to
change the topic as dancing felt personal in a way I couldn’t
explain. “Are people still talking about the marriage? About
me?”
I didn’t even want to imagine the vicious turn the gossip
would take if people found out about a mistress. I hated
being pitied. I needed to figure out a way to handle the
situation in a way that saved me from heartache and
pathetic glances.
“Some do,” Ines said hesitantly, then gave me a
reassuring smile. “Don’t mind them. You’re now Samuel’s
wife, and that’s all that matters. I’m very happy about it.”
I tilted my head, trying to gauge if Ines really meant it.
She was a kind woman, but she was also raised in the mafia,
and tolerating people who weren’t perfect by our society’s
standards wasn’t our world’s forte. “That’s very sweet of
you to say.”
Ines put down a scarf she was about to put on a higher
shelf for my winter wardrobe. “I’m being serious, Emma. I’m
going to be very open. I was concerned in the beginning.
Samuel’s had a few tough years with his sister being
kidnapped and some of his friends dying, and just the
overall conflict with the Camorra. I wanted a strong but
caring woman at his side.”
 People needed to stop thinking my wheelchair made me
weak in any way. If anything, my struggles have made me
stronger. I was fairly sure I could handle almost anything.
I opened my mouth to tell her that my wheelchair didn’t
mean I wasn’t strong and caring, but she raised a palm to
stop me and continued, “I don’t know you very well, but
what I’ve seen so far convinced me that you can be that
woman for Samuel.”
“I’ll do my best to be a good wife, if he lets me.”
Ines smiled bitterly. “He can be stubborn and withdrawn.
Like his father, he prefers to swallow his problems until they
burst out of him. I hope he’ll be a good husband. I know he
has it in him, but sometimes he’s his own worst enemy.”
I was surprised by Ines’s openness, but at the same time
relieved that she didn’t see Samuel as some sort of saint.
Ines opened the last suitcase, and a heap of lingerie fell
out. They were mostly new. I had bought them with Samuel
in mind, though I really enjoyed wearing sexy underwear for
my own well-being too.
“No reason to be embarrassed.” Ines picked up my
underwear, then put it in the drawer I had picked for it.
We finished unpacking in the early afternoon and had
coffee together.
“Would you mind if I take a dip in your pool? We don’t
have one, and it’s been too long since I’ve swum.”
“Of course I don’t mind. You can have one of my bikinis.”
I was glad that Ines wanted to spend a bit more time with
me. Maybe she could sense that I longed for company today.
I really liked her, which was a relief.
While Ines swam a few laps in the pool, I researched
things to do in Minneapolis apart from the charity work I
wanted to begin as soon as possible. I stumbled upon an
inclusive dance studio that had several dance courses for
people with disabilities or, as they put it, differently abled. I
loved the term. Everything from breakdance over jazz
dance, standard dances to ballet. I felt a deep ache inside
me, not necessarily for ballet but for dancing, for moving my
body in rhythm with music.
It was a public studio, so I wasn’t sure how happy Samuel
would be if I went there. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to tell
him about it. Maybe I could just ask Leo to take me there
and pretend he was my husband. Though, Samuel probably
wouldn’t be impressed by such a move.
I’d simply discuss my plans with him tonight after asking
him about F.
My belly constricted with nerves just thinking about that
confrontation.
When Ines returned to the porch after taking a shower,
once again perfectly dressed in a skirt and short-sleeved
blouse, she sank down beside me.
“It’s getting late. I should leave so you can have a nice
evening with Samuel.”
I wasn’t so sure about the nice part, but I definitely
needed to be alone with Samuel.
My phone beeped with a text from Samuel telling me that
he’d be late, and I should eat without him.
“Samuel’s working late.”
Her face pinched in disapproval. “Would you like me to
stay?”
“Are you sure? What about your husband?”
“I’ll send him a message. He had a business lunch
anyway. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Eating with Ines was nice, but my mind kept drifting to
Samuel and what he was doing. Ines hadn’t mentioned her
husband working late, but wouldn’t he if things were so
busy?
I didn’t want to be the jealous bride, but I wondered if
Samuel was with another woman, with that F.
The whispers of other people finally got to me, their
assumption that a man like Samuel would have a mistress in
a marriage with someone like me. As if I was incapable of
fulfilling his needs. And even if that were the case, that
didn’t mean the vows of fidelity were void.
I needed to know. The chances of getting an honest
answer probably weren’t too high, but maybe his reaction
would give him away.
When Samuel finally came home late at night, he looked
surprised when I was still up and waiting for him in the
bedroom. I put down the book I’d been reading and looked
at him. My bravado dwindled seeing his eyes. I hated
conflict, and this early on in our marriage, I could do lasting
damage, but I needed to speak my mind, or I’d go insane.
“Are you all right?” Samuel asked as he opened his cuffs.
For some reason, the movement made me long for his
touch, for what we had on our wedding night.
The muscles in his forearms flexed, and I could hardly
look away. It would have been easier to keep watching him
and duck away from the questions tingling on my tongue.
I cleared my throat. “You agreed to marry me.”
Samuel’s brows drew together. He was obviously unsure
where I was going with this. I, myself, wasn’t sure how to
speak my mind.
“Maybe I’m not what some people in our world consider a
good catch, and perhaps some people even believe I can’t
be a good wife, but I’m just as capable as any other woman.
I also expect to be treated with respect, and for me, that
includes faithfulness or, at the very least, honesty. If you are
with someone else, I want to know.”
Maybe this would mark the end of our marriage before it
had even really begun. My mouth turned dry when the last
words left my mouth.
Samuel dropped his hands from their task of unbuttoning
his shirt. “What makes you think I would be with another
woman?” he asked quietly, his gaze so intent I had trouble
not looking away.
I felt inexplicably stupid blaming his possible infidelity on
my wheelchair, especially since I’d been the one who told
him it wasn’t as big a deal as many people thought.
Maybe he saw it because his frown deepened, becoming
almost foreboding. Of course, that only made him more
attractive. Samuel was a man who always looked good, and
sometimes he looked completely breathtaking. “My parents
have been married for thirty years. My father taught me
that loyalty and faithfulness are the key to a marriage. I
wouldn’t dishonor you by cheating on you, Emma. There
isn’t another woman, and there won’t be.”
I swallowed. I could tell he was being serious. Actually, he
seemed almost angry that I’d dared to accuse him at all. But
what about F.? Was he really that good a liar? If that were
the case, our marriage would be doomed. I blushed at my
next words, feeling ashamed for my actions. “You have two
phones, and this morning an F. told you she misses you.”
Samuel’s face became stone, as cold and as unrelenting,
but the look of disappointment and anger in his eyes was
worse. “You spied on me?”
I swallowed hard. “You hid your second phone from me,
and the message from F. popped up on your screen.”
He stared off to the side, his gaze distant as if
contemplating what to tell me. “You don’t trust me.”
Anger surged through me. “How could I? I’d love to give
you the benefit of the doubt, but I know how some men in
our world are, and I know how many people perceive me. I
won’t lie to myself, and I don’t want you to lie to me either.”
Samuel took a step closer, his eyes blazing with fury.
“You shouldn’t listen to what other people say. You should
care how I perceive you. And I haven’t given you a reason to
distrust me. I have two phones because I’m not only in
contact with Outfit members. I have to deal with many
creeps from other organizations that I’d like to keep
separate.”
Was he telling the truth? Then why had the message
sounded very intimate, not like something business
acquaintances wrote each other? Was I imagining things?
“You haven’t tried to have sex with me again.”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip before my mouth could
spew more word vomit.
“Ideally, I’d have sex with you again very soon,” he said
with a hint of a smirk that immediately sent sparks through
my body. “But sex in a marriage isn’t a one-way road.”
 “But why didn’t you try anything after our wedding
night?”
Samuel still stood in his half-unbuttoned shirt with those
rolled-up sleeves in front of me, and with every word out of
his mouth, I wanted him more. “I didn’t want to push you
into anything you weren’t ready for. You could be sore.”
I was still a little sore. “You could have asked me or tried
to initiate something, and I would have told you no if I didn’t
want it.”
Not that any part of me didn’t want to be with Samuel. I
still tingled when I thought of Samuel’s fingers on me. My
body and mind screamed yes.
“You could have initiated things,” Samuel suggested as if
it were the easiest thing in the world, and to him, it probably
was. I didn’t often think about our age gap, but the eight
and a half years he had on me meant he’d been having sex
for a long time. Most guys in our world began at fourteen or
fifteen, so he’d been sexually active for twelve years. A new
wave of nerves filled me.
My cheeks burned fiercely. I fumbled with the covers. “If I
had more experience, maybe I would have…” That was a lie.
My fear of being rejected by him would have been too great.
Our bond was still too fresh for me to be anywhere near
being confident enough for a move like that. “But you have
at least twelve years of experience on me! You have
probably slept with more women than I have shoes in my
wardrobe!”
Samuel cocked an eyebrow. Damn him for looking like a
woman’s dream. His gaze flitted to the rows of shoes lined
up on the open shelves in the walk-in wardrobe, and his
answering smirk made anger and desire battle in my
insides. I tried to remember how many shoes were on
display. Since Anna had told me I looked good in heels, I’d
gone on a few unhealthy shopping sprees.
“You need to buy more shoes,” he said with a chuckle.
 I stared at him indignantly, but at the same time, the
banter did strange things to my belly. “Don’t tempt me.”
“So what about the matter at hand? Why didn’t you
approach me? Like you said, you are the innocent part in
our bond, and some might say I was being considerate by
not demanding anything from you.”
“There’s a difference between demanding and initiating,”
I said firmly.
“I don’t know you very well. I wasn’t sure if you would
have had the backbone to say no.” For some reason, his
voice had become lower over the course of our
conversation.
“Oh,” I said. I hadn’t seen it from his angle yet. “That
makes sense… but I would prefer it if you’d take the
initiative for now.”
Samuel stepped closer to the bed. The top buttons of his
shirt were open and gave me a very distracting view of his
chest. “I don’t have a problem with that as long as you want
to have sex with me.”
“I want to,” I whispered despite the heat crawling up my
throat.
Samuel loosened his tie, never taking his eyes off me.
“Good,” he murmured. He leaned over me, cupped my face,
and kissed me. His kiss tasted of whisky or brandy, I
couldn’t tell, and was gentle at first but soon became more
demanding. My body responded immediately. My core
tightened, and an insistent tingling started between my
legs. Samuel shoved back the covers and climbed between
my thighs. His erection pressed against my core when he
stretched out on top of me. His kiss, just like the first time,
set my body aflame. And the feel of his weight between my
legs? I couldn’t get enough of it, especially the pressure of
his length exactly where I needed it.
Samuel rocked against me lightly while he kissed me,
and the friction was almost enough to make me come. I
hadn’t even realized how much our conversation had
already turned me on. I hesitantly slid one hand into his hair
and put the other on his back. Samuel pulled back. “I’m
yours. You can touch me however you want.”
I let out a choked breath. Mine. It still seemed impossible.
Samuel kissed my throat, one of his hands slipping under
my nightgown, up my side until he cupped my breast. When
my nipple puckered against his palm, he rocked his erection
against my core again, and I moaned against his mouth. I
wanted more, so much more. I’d have never thought that a
simple touch could ignite me with so much desire.

When I heard Emma’s soft moan, my cock jerked inside my

pants, making me aware that I still had too many clothes on,
but this was about Emma, about showing her how good I
could make her feel if only she’d let me.
She writhed on the mattress as I teased her nipples. She
wanted more. Her body sent a clear message. I slid a hand
down the tantalizing curves of her body, then inside her
panties, until my fingers found her clit. She was so wet, my
fingertip slipped over her button, tearing another moan from
her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to keep
herself in check. I pressed my lips against her ear. “Don’t
hold back. In our bedroom, there’s no need for shame or
restraint. I want all of you.”
She met my gaze, surprise and wonder in her eyes. Her
skin was flushed, and her lips parted as I began to rub small
circles on her nub. I kissed her, needing to taste her plump
lips.
“You’re close,” I rasped between kisses as her breathing
became more labored. She didn’t react, only clung to my
shoulder, focusing on my chest.
“I would ask you if you like it, but this—” I slid one finger
over her opening, which was slick with arousal. She blushed,
and a small, strange sound escaped her lips.
She bit her lip, the desire in her eyes flickering up.
“What do you want?” I rasped.
Her gaze flitted to my finger once more.
“Inside you?”
I was going to lose my mind at any second. My cock was
ready to bust out of my pants. She gave a small nod,
uncertainty and embarrassment crowding her face as if it
were a bad thing to want my finger inside her when it
turned me on.
I brushed my lips over her throat and moved them down
until I cupped her nipple. My fingers found her entrance
once more, and I slowly eased a finger inside. She was still
tight and tensed briefly, so I stilled and looked up at her
face.
“Still sore?” I rumbled.
The knowledge of why she was sore made me even
hungrier for more. Maybe we really were nothing more than
instinct-driven beasts.
“A bit, but I don’t want you to stop,” she admitted with a
small smile.
“Oh, I have no intention of stopping, not until you come
all over my fingers and cock.”
Her eyes widened slightly, then fluttered shut. She
moaned when I pushed my finger deeper into her pussy and
began to curl it slightly while my thumb brushed her clit. I
regarded her attentively while my finger pumped in and out,
trying to gauge when she’d be ready for another finger and
my cock.
I could tell that the deeper, slower sensation of my finger
stroking along her sensitive opening really turned her on.
The scent of her arousal reached my nose, calling to a
primal part to finally claim her again, but I didn’t want to
rush things. Emma was still very inexperienced and
obviously sore. I couldn’t just stick it in. I had all the time in
the world as I fingered her. Eventually, I brushed a second
finger over her opening and slid it in. There was no
resistance. By now, she was completely soaked from my
ministrations. She moaned again, her muscles clenching
around my fingers. I moved them faster, my thumb circling
her clit with more intensity. She clung to my arm, and her
eyes squeezed shut a moment before her walls tightened
their grip even more, and she moaned loudly. She shoved
her head back into the pillow, revealing her beautiful,
elegant throat, and I couldn’t stop myself from kissing, then
biting it lightly, causing her to shudder and clench even
harder.
I slowed my movements until Emma relaxed, but I could
tell her body still yearned for more.
I gently pulled out, and her lips fell open in a near protest
at the loss of my touch. Stifling a grin, I stood and
undressed completely.
I stepped closer to the bed but didn’t climb in right away
as Emma was busy discovering my body with her eyes. I
wasn’t shy. I knew the effect my body had on women. It
wasn’t the part of me I wanted to hide. Seeing Emma’s
desire and admiration as her gaze followed my abs down to
my cock, I felt proud. I felt the same way when I looked at
her gorgeous body.
“How about we get on equal footing?” I said in a low
voice and reached for her nightgown. Emma sat up and
helped me drag it over her head. I tossed it to the floor,
then slid her soaked panties down Emma’s legs. I held them
up to show Emma how eager her body was for what we
were doing. She blushed deeply, but she didn’t look away. I
could see in her eyes how pleased she was with her body.
Maybe she had been worried about how well it would react
to sex. She had worried for nothing. I dropped the tiny thing
on the floor as well. I climbed back on the bed and knelt
before her. I ran my fingernails up and down over her legs
with more pressure than I would usually use to see her
reaction. When I got close to her pussy, her lips parted in a
moan, so I focused my ministrations there. I massaged her
inner thighs for a while, but my cock was ready to explode. I
gripped her ankles and lifted her legs to my shoulders, then
looked at her. “Okay?”
She gave a quick nod, obviously a bit overwhelmed by
the situation.
I moved even closer until my knees touched the back of
her thighs and my tip brushed her pussy lips. Soon, it
glistened with her arousal. I rubbed my tip over her clit
slowly before I dipped between her folds. My tip brushed
over her opening, but instead of entering, I moved back up
until my now glistening tip pressed against her clit. I could
tell Emma was close to bursting. I leaned over her and
guided my cock to her opening.
With my eyes on hers, I pushed in slowly. Her walls
gripped my cock so tightly that I gritted my teeth against
the intense need to spill my cum. I’d fuck Emma senseless
first and get another orgasm from her before my cock could
shoot its load.
When I was almost all the way in, I paused to allow
Emma to catch her breath and her body to adapt to my
cock. This new position allowed a deeper penetration that
might be too much for her second time, so I wanted to give
her time to adjust.
 I grabbed her ankles once more and kissed one then the
other, causing Emma to give me a surprised smile.
“Ready?” I asked, my voice so low and scratchy I wasn’t
sure Emma could even understand me.
She gave a small nod, anticipation filling her face. I sank
all the way into her slowly, giving her more time to adjust to
my size. She winced, still tight. She closed her eyes briefly,
and I waited for her to be comfortable for me to move, even
if it killed me. I wanted nothing more than to slam into her,
to let my body take control and override my mind.
Emma opened her eyes and gave a small nod. I didn’t
need more encouragement. I pulled all the way out and
moved back in. Soon, I established a slow rhythm that had
Emma panting, her fingers pressing against my chest. Our
bodies molded together, and it was so fucking easy. I wished
everything was as easy.

Afterward, Emma and I lay beside each other in bed. Her

head rested on my outstretched arm, and she was angled
toward me. Her gaze was distant, thoughtful.
I knew I hadn’t convinced her with my bullshit
explanation for my second phone. And my sex distraction
wouldn’t work for long. Fuck. I should have been more
careful, but I had allowed myself to really feel at home and
hadn’t been as vigilant. That was the problem with letting
your guard down, especially if you had secrets like I did.
Emma’s gaze focused on me, but she didn’t say
anything.
I hated lying to her. It was a shitty start to our marriage,
but I couldn’t tell her about my contact with Fina. The fact
remained that she was part of the Camorra through her
marriage to Remo fucking Falcone, and I shouldn’t even
consider talking to her. She’d chosen him, so it wasn’t too
far-fetched to worry that she might manipulate me to gather
intel on Outfit business. At least, that was what my charge
would say. Fina and I had never talked about anything
remotely related to business. I hardly even told her anything
of importance from my private life, which was why our
contact had grown less frequent over the years. She’d made
her choice, and she couldn’t have both Remo and me. I’d
come to terms with losing my twin. I hardly missed her
anymore. Too much time had passed since we’d been close.
More often than not, I regretted even trying to save her.
Fuck, had I known she was getting cozy with her kidnapper,
I wouldn’t have gone on that fucking suicide mission and
gotten Arlo, Enea, and Domenico killed. Bitterness and guilt
filled my chest like a thick plume of smoke. I untangled
myself from Emma and sat up.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, confused. She had begun
to doze off, but I had woken her with my sudden movement.
Fuck. I schooled my face into a neutral mask. “I forgot to
answer an important email. I have the details on my desk.
I’ll just head down there and get this done. You should try to
sleep.”
Emma nodded slowly, but I could tell she was hesitant to
believe me.
I covered her with the blanket and gave her a small
smile, then pushed to my feet and put on pajama bottoms.
After checking that her wheelchair was in her reach, I left
the room, closing the door after me.
The moment I was outside in the corridor, anger and
regret over my decisions from the past resurfaced. A voice
in my head beckoned me to silence those voices with booze.
It never worked for long, but even a short reprieve seemed
like mercy right now. I hurried down the staircase and into
my office, where I grabbed a new bottle of gin from the shelf
and sank down on the sofa in front of the cold fireplace. I
unscrewed the bottle, then took a long swig, leaned back,
and closed my eyes. Memories from ten years ago took form
before my eyes as they always did when I was in this kind of
mood or when I slept.
I remembered each of my friends’ faces shortly before we
headed out on our rescue mission to Las Vegas. Their
laughter, their trust in me, their confidence that together we
could save my sister.
A bitter chuckle left my mouth, and I took an even longer
swig, enjoying the burn and the way the alcohol numbed
some of my emotions.
The words Domenico’s mother had spoken shortly after
his death crossed my mind.
“You sacrificed my boy for your traitorous whore of a
sister. He could still be alive! And the man who murdered
him? He gets to enjoy himself and your sister. He gets to
taunt us with his existence, and you do nothing.”
She was right. I had done nothing to avenge my friends
after my sister ran off with Remo. Domenico’s mother didn’t
even know that I’d secretly gone to Serafina’s wedding to
Remo. Only Dad and Dante knew. What they didn’t know
was that I was still in contact with Fina. Sometimes I
wondered if Dad suspected it. He didn’t mention it, though. I
should have killed Remo that day and tried to kill as many of
his brothers as possible before they executed me, but I
hadn’t even tried. Not from fear of dying. No, I had seen
how much Fina loved that psycho, and I hadn’t been able to
hurt her.
I took another swig.
So many years had passed since then, and my view of
that day had changed drastically over time. I should have
killed Remo. It probably wouldn’t have freed Fina of his hold,
but it would have lifted some of the guilt from my shoulders
and made this world a safer place.
 Maybe I would one day get the chance again, though I
doubted it. Dante hadn’t sent me on a mission into Camorra
territory ever since, not even close, and I doubted he would
any time soon. Maybe he knew that I might hesitate before
killing Remo.
I took another swig. Now my continued contact with Fina
threatened my marriage to Emma when it already posed a
risk to my life.
Fuck. Maybe I needed to cut all ties and make the move I
had been too weak to do for myself. I wanted this marriage
to work out for Emma’s sake. I couldn’t change my mistakes
from the past, but I could try not to ruin more lives with
future mistakes.
I took an even bigger swig, then another until my body
was too numb to feel.
When I woke in the middle of the night, Samuel wasn’t in
bed with me. I sat up and turned on the light. Blinking
against the sudden brightness, I put on my nightgown which
lay beside me and scooted to the edge, then slid into my
wheelchair.
What if he’d lied? What if he was with F. right this very
moment?
I shook my head and moved toward the elevator in the
hallway, then let it take me downstairs. It was dark except
for a sliver of light coming from Samuel’s office at the end of
the hallway branching off the entryway. I followed the light.
The door was ajar, but it was silent behind it. Swallowing, I
nudged the door with my hand, and it swung inward. I
wheeled inside, then stopped when I spotted Samuel on the
couch, his head tilted to the side, his expression softer than
usual in sleep. It couldn’t be comfortable for him to sleep
like this. I moved closer and noticed the almost empty bottle
of gin beside Samuel on the sofa. How much had he drunk? I
got even closer, and the intense smell of alcohol hit me.
Considering how deeply Samuel slept despite being a Made
Man and trained to be vigilant, I feared he’d drunk most of
the liquor tonight.
Why? Because I’d accused him of cheating? Because I
was right? Samuel didn’t strike me as someone who would
let that bring him to his knees. But how well did I really
know my husband?
His phone must have dropped to the floor. It lay beside
his naked foot on the hardwood floor. It was his second
phone. Supposedly his phone for unsavory characters.
Keeping my eyes on Samuel, I bent forward, trying not to
make a sound, and reached for the phone.
Should I really spy on him again after his reaction
yesterday?
With my fingertips against the phone, I hesitated. Samuel
wanted me to trust him, but his actions made it difficult.
Why did he come down here to get drunk?
A battle raged inside me. I hated being like this, so
distrusting. I wanted to believe Samuel. But his secrecy and
all the words that our society had put in my head were
messing with me. I hated it. My fingers curled around the
phone when Samuel stirred. I jerked up, dropping the phone.
Samuel leaped up, pulling his gun, his eyes harsh until they
settled on me. I was frozen in shock.
Slowly, he sank back down and lowered his gun.
“Fuck, Emma, I could have hurt you. Why did you sneak
up on me?” He put the gun back down where it had rested
beside him on the sofa.
“I didn’t have to be sneaky. You were completely out of
it.” My eyes darted to the bottle of gin on the sofa.
Samuel’s expression hardened. “I sometimes have
trouble sleeping, so I take sleeping pills.”
My eyebrows rose. Maybe he had taken sleeping pills too,
but the alcohol alone would probably have knocked him out.
“Why didn’t you come back to bed? I was worried.”
“I’m not used to someone controlling my every step.”
I swallowed and gave a terse nod. With a strained smile, I
gripped my wheels and reversed. “You’re right. I have no
right to impose on you.”
Anger and disappointment battled inside me. I had on
occasion found Danilo asleep at his desk as well—never
drunk, though—and he’d always appreciated it when I’d
woken him so he could find restful sleep in his bed.
Samuel released a low breath, raking his fingers through
his hair. “That came out harsher than intended.”
He stood, then looked around until his eyes settled on his
phone on the floor. He picked it up, then leveled his eyes on
me with a hint of suspicion.
I held his gaze, not giving away anything.
“I’m coming to bed now.”
“If that’s what you want,” I said, still with that same tight
smile, and left the room. Samuel appeared beside me as I
waited for the elevator door to slide open. His fingers
cupped my shoulder lightly as we entered together. I tilted
my head up. He looked exhausted and still not one hundred
percent himself. He was surprisingly steady on his feet,
though. Maybe he hadn’t drunk as much as I thought. His
eyes met mine. “I told you I’m not the catch everyone
makes me out to be.”
I pursed my lips. “This could easily be rectified. Just don’t
get angry when I’m worried about you.” And tell me the
truth about F.
“You have no reason to worry, Emma. I’ve been a Made
Man for many years. The shit I’ve done and seen has
hardened me.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. Made Men thought they
were immune to feelings, but I knew how good their masks
were.
Samuel went to the bathroom while I stretched out in our
bed. I could hear water running, followed by the electric
toothbrush. When Samuel emerged, his hair was wet at the
front, and he looked alert. He slipped under the covers. The
scent of alcohol was almost entirely gone and replaced by
the eucalyptus note of his toothpaste.
He put his head down on the cushion, staring up at the
ceiling. He didn’t look tired at all. It was four in the morning,
and I doubted his sleep had been sound before now, but I
didn’t think he’d go back to sleep.
“You look wide awake.”
He chuckled. “I am.” His eyes searched my face. “You
should try to sleep. I’ll stay here until you have fallen asleep
if you want.”
I closed my eyes, but could tell that I was too agitated to
sleep now. I sighed and opened my eyes again, finding
Samuel’s gaze on me.
“Can’t sleep?”
I shook my head. “I’m an early riser. Not this early, but
five o’clock in the summer, so it’s too late for my body to
fall asleep again.”
“But we went to bed late,” Samuel reminded me, and my
face heated, thinking of our encounter yesterday.
Samuel’s gaze traced my heated cheeks, his lips
twitching.
“We could both get up. I’d love to swim a few lengths in
the pool.”
Samuel sat up with a nod and raised his arms in a slow
stretch over his head. My eyes trailed over his strong arms
and muscled chest, feeling a familiar warmth settle in the
depth of my core. I looked away and cleared my throat. “I
think I’ll join you,” Samuel said. “It’ll banish the last of my
tiredness.”
Samuel went ahead after changing into his swim trunks. I
had to find my bikini first, but then followed him downstairs.
The air outside was still cool as the sun hadn’t risen yet.
Samuel had turned on the pool lights, letting the water
appear a fluorescent turquoise.
 “The pool is heated,” Samuel assured me as he came to
my side.
“That’s good,” I said with a laugh, rubbing my arms.
“Would you like me to help you into the pool?” Samuel
asked.
My first impulse was to say no. I could get into the water
alone, but then I noticed his gaze on my chest, checking me
out in the triangle bikini, and changed my mind. “Yes, I’d
appreciate it.”
Samuel slid his hands under my legs and behind my back
and easily lifted me. I gave him a small smile. He walked
over to the part of the pool where stairs descended into the
water. He carried me until I was engulfed by the warm
water. It wasn’t body temperature or close, but it wasn’t too
cold either. He released my legs, and I righted myself until I
was in front of him with my hands on his shoulders. For a
moment, I considered kissing him, but I knew where this
would lead. And while I was eager to try out sex in the water
someday, I didn’t want to resort to intimacy again, not to
mention that I wasn’t sure if the neighbors would be able to
see us.
Samuel’s expression made it clear he would have been
up for more. I released him and allowed my body to float on
my back, then began to crawl backward. Samuel watched
me for a couple of moments before he began to swim his
own laps butterfly style. We swam for a while until my teeth
began to chatter. The outside temperature had risen, but
the water still managed to lower my body temperature to an
uncomfortable level.
I stopped and swam toward the edge. Samuel
immediately did the same. I hoisted myself out of the water
and perched on the rim. Samuel came my way and touched
my knees as he straightened to his full height. The water
only reached his pecs now. I didn’t feel his touch, but the
sight of his strong hands on my skin still sent a flood of need
through me.
 “Would you like to go out for dinner tonight?”
Surprise widened my eyes. “A date?”
“A date.” He moved his hands higher and rubbed my
thighs absentmindedly. “We’re married, so it’s time I take
you out and show you my favorite place in my city.”
“Your city,” I said with a smile. His father still seemed fit,
so I wondered when Samuel was supposed to take over.
“My father and I rule together even if he’s officially
Underboss.”
“Where are we going tonight?”
I had to admit I was a bit nervous about going out in
public so soon after our wedding. I wasn’t sure how well-
trained the press was in Minneapolis, but people would
definitely stare at us. Our marriage had made waves even in
the outside world.
“It’s a small Italian restaurant. Renato’s grandparents
own it. My family and I have eaten there often for as long as
I can remember, and I used to play in the kitchen with
Renato when we were young kids. That’s how our friendship
developed.”
“He’s quite a character.”
Samuel chuckled. “He’s loyal and trustworthy.”
“I am too, you know?”
Samuel sighed. He lowered his hands from my legs and
stepped back. “I have trust issues.”
Because of his sister? I had only heard the rumors of how
she’d saved Remo Falcone from the Outfit, but only Danilo,
Samuel, his dad, and Dante knew the full truth.
“It’s okay.” A hint of guilt filled me when I remembered
how I’d wanted to check his phone again tonight.
“Would you like me to carry you out?” Samuel asked.
I shook my head. “Can you give me a towel?” Samuel got
out of the pool and took one of the fluffy towels that rested
on one of the sunchairs. He draped it over my shoulders.
Then he picked me up and put me down on the sunchair. I
peered up at him, and he surprised me with a heated kiss.
He pulled back after a moment with a tight smile. “I
shouldn’t start something I can’t finish.” He looked at his
watch, then sighed.
I blew out a little breath, trying to gather my wits about
me. I glanced up at the surrounding houses. The pool was
mostly hidden from view by hedgerows, but I still worried
about people catching a glimpse of us.
Samuel positioned himself in front of me. “Nobody can
see anything now.”
I opened my bikini top and tugged it away, then dropped
it beside me on the lounge chair. Samuel’s eyes practically
devoured me as my nipples hardened even more in the light
wind. I leaned back and tugged my bottoms down so I could
really dry myself.
“Fuck, Emma. I really wish I had more time.” His voice
sent a shiver down my back. He shoved down his swim
trunks, revealing his erection. I was at eye level with it, and I
could have leaned forward and taken him in my mouth. My
face heated. Where had that thought come from?
Samuel grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his
waist. I cleared my throat and wrapped my own towel
tighter around my body. It was funny that I had thought the
physical aspect would be a problem in our marriage. That
obviously wasn’t going to be the case. Building trust and an
emotional base would be much harder.
Renato and I stepped into the newest whorehouse of the
Outfit. It was our most sophisticated with whores that were
referred to as models and who looked like they might
actually be one, at least in catalogs or ads, not the Paris
Fashion Week.
Renato motioned around. “What do you think?”
Half-moon-shaped dark green leather booths offered
privacy thanks to the satin curtains that could be closed
completely. In alcoves over the booths, fake Roman statues
added to the exclusive appearance. Dark wood panels
covered the front of the bar and the lower part of the walls,
with golden wallpaper on the upper part.
A door behind the bar opened, and a tall woman with red
hair in a purple jumpsuit stepped out. She was in her early
forties and was responsible for picking out girls for Renato’s
whorehouses. He owned five in total and had been
managing them as Captain under my rule since his father
had stepped back from managing the brothels after a
stroke.
She strode purposely over to us, and Renato’s mouth
pulled into a leer. I released a sigh.
 “Samuel,” Autumn said with a charming smile before she
turned to Renato and allowed her smile to become more
sultry. She leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his
cheek, leaving a lipstick stain on his skin. Those two had
been fuck buddies since Autumn made Renato a man
thirteen years ago. He had a strange bond with her, even if
he fucked other women all the time.
“Samuel wants a tour so he can approve of this project,”
Renato said, pride ringing in his voice. Autumn touched his
shoulder. “Everything’s ready. I picked three more models.
I’m sure you’ll approve.”
“Lead the way,” I told her.
She moved ahead, swaying her hips. Renato smirked,
then we followed her into the backstage area where the
“models” could serve their customers whatever they
wanted. At the very end of the long hallway was the lounge
room where the women could change clothes and put on
makeup. When we stepped inside, twenty-five women
turned their heads toward us. Most were in their early
twenties, and only a few were in their thirties. There was
something for every appetite.
I assumed they were only dressed in skimpy underwear
so I could evaluate them. Though, that was really Renato’s
job. He tested every whore before she started working for
him.
Autumn moved past the women as if she owned the
place herself, then pointed at the last three women. “These
are our newest additions. Would you like to test them now,
Renato?”
Renato scanned the busty dark-skinned woman, then a
petite Asian woman, and a tall blond woman. “What about
you, Samuel? Would you like to test any of these ladies?
Their talents are extraordinary.”
I sent him a scowl that shut him up. “I’m sure our
customers will appreciate it.”
Renato shrugged.
 I turned on my heel and left.
Renato followed me and stopped me with a hand on my
shoulder. “So you are adamant about the fidelity thing?”
I glowered at him. “I am. Considering your father will
hand over the Captain title to your brother if you aren’t
married before your thirtieth birthday, you should consider
the fidelity thing too.”
Renato’s expression darkened briefly. “I’ve thought about
it.”
I cocked an eyebrow. Renato has been fucking so many
whores and other women over the years, he was notorious
even in our circles. I certainly hadn’t lived like a monk, but
I’d never reached the level of manwhorehood that Renato
had. It had caused him trouble finding a wife.
“My father won’t budge. He insists I marry someone from
a conservative family.”
“I thought none of them wanted to give you their
daughters.”
Renato shrugged. “Not from Minneapolis and not from
Chicago, but I might have found someone.”
“Who?”
“Apparently, Giorgia’s family is very pious and strictly
Catholic, as conservative as they come.”
“No, Renato. What are you up to now?”
“Let’s just say I made a deal with Giorgia Farina, and
she’s willing to become my wife. Now I just need you to put
in a good word for me with her brother and mother.”
I closed my eyes. “She’s Emma’s best friend.”
“That’s good for Emma, right?”
“I don’t know. Not if Giorgia cries her eyes out over your
manwhore ways every day.”
“It’s a marriage of convenience. Giorgia knows what the
deal entails.”
“All right. But if I find out you lied to the girl and
pretended to be in love, I’ll kick your stupid ass.”
“Deal.” Renato clapped my shoulder.
 I released another sigh.
Autumn appeared in the doorway. “Are you going to test
them out now?”
“Of course. You know me. I take my job very seriously.”
He sent me a grin. “You sure you don’t want a good cock
suck?”
I definitely wanted my cock sucked, but not by one of
these women. Since Emma had been at eye level with my
erection today, I could think of nothing but her beautiful lips
around my dick.
“I’m taking Emma to dinner at La Cantina tonight.”
Renato searched my eyes. “Good for you. Have the
gnocchi for me. I haven’t been there in a week. We need to
have lunch there again.”
I nodded, then turned on my heel and headed to the bar
where the barkeeper was testing different cocktails.
“Negroni,” I said.
He frowned, but his expression smoothed the moment he
recognized my face. He gave a quick nod and began to mix
the drink, then pushed it over to me. I took a sip, then
nodded appreciatively. It was good. I emptied it, then had
another before I pulled my car keys from my pocket and got
up.
“I could call you a taxi.”
I sent the man a look that made him pale. “I advise you
to keep your nose out of your customer’s business, but
especially out of mine. I make the rules in this city.”
I strode away, pissed off.
My mood had marginally improved when I entered our
mansion. The moment I spotted Emma coming out of the
elevator, my anger evaporated. She wore a copper silk
dress with thin spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline. A
high slit revealed her slender leg and black pumps. I shut
the door and blew out a breath. “Wow.”
Emma blushed and gave me a happy smile. “I wasn’t
sure what kind of place this was. Cantina sounded more
rustic, and they don’t have a website, but I read a few
reviews that it’s become the Italian restaurant of the city, so
I wanted to be safe. Better overdressed than underdressed.
Right?”
Nerves shone on her face.
I nodded and stalked toward her. “You look beautiful.”
“I was worried you had changed your mind.”
I glanced at my watch. I was fifteen minutes late. “I
should have called. I’m not used to someone waiting for
me.” My mother had stopped when I’d grown increasingly
annoyed over the years.
“You’re here, and I’m excited.” She paused. “And
nervous.”
I took her hand. “Why?”
“I know people will talk.”
“They always do. But they better get used to us making
public appearances because I intend to show you off more
often.”
Emma’s smile widened.
“Come on.”
During the ride to La Cantina, Renato tried to call me
twice. When he tried a third time as I parked the car, I
turned off the sound and shoved my phone into the inside
pocket of my jacket.
“Why do you ignore him? Don’t you think it could be
important?”
I glanced at Emma. “He probably only wants to know if I
put in a good word for him with Giorgia’s brother yet.”
Emma’s mouth fell open. “He wants to marry her? Giorgia
didn’t even like him.”
I chuckled. “Well, that may be, but apparently, they
struck a deal.”
Emma shook her head. “Why?”
“I don’t know why Giorgia wants to marry Renato, but he
needs a bride from a conservative family by the time he
turns thirty, or he’ll lose his position as Captain.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Arranged marriages are like business deals.”
My engagement to Emma had been. A quid pro quo that
Emma wouldn’t be fond of if she found out.
Emma bit her lip and nodded slowly. “Will you put in a
good word for him?”
“I will.”
“Will he be good to her?”
 I looked out of the windshield. “Renato is my friend. He’s
not violent toward women. But he won’t be faithful.” I
spared her the details of his whore testing ways.
Emma looked down at her lap. “I’ll have to warn Giorgia.”
I nodded. “You should, but it seems they both need that
marriage.” I motioned toward the restaurant. “We should go
in.”
I just opened the door for Emma when a car pulled up
with spinning tires. I pulled my gun but relaxed when I
recognized Renato’s car. He got out of the car.
Emma was already inside, glancing over her shoulder at
me in confusion as Renato’s grandfather greeted her
warmly.
I sent Renato a questioning look.
“Why don’t you answer your fucking phone?” he shouted
as he rushed toward me.
I cocked an eyebrow.
“I wanted to warn you—”
“Let me go. I won’t be in the same place with him!”
I stiffened.
“Fuck,” Renato murmured, his eyes locking on mine. My
stomach constricted, guilt burning brightly, as I schooled my
face into a hard mask.
“And I really hope you find happiness somewhere else
because that man won’t ever be happy if there’s a God,”
Domenico’s mother told Emma. “You should be ashamed
that you parade around like this when my son is dead.”
I moved inside. I stepped between Mrs. Accetta and
Emma. I could bear her anger but I didn’t want Emma to be
on the receiving end of it. She had done nothing to deserve
this.
Domenico’s younger brother who was also a Made Man
grabbed his mother’s arm. “Mom, it’s enough. This isn’t the
place.”
“It’s been years,” Renato muttered.
 “I lost my son! He was tortured to death because of him,
because of his whore of a sister, and here he stands with his
wife. My Domenico won’t ever marry. He won’t have
children.”
Her haunted eyes met mine, and I knew what would
come before she even said anything. “That’s why you
married her, because He won’t allow you to have kids
either.”
“Leave,” I ordered, my voice cold as ice.
Renato and Domenico’s brother led Mrs. Accetta out of
the restaurant. Domenico’s brother stopped in front of me.
He had Domenico’s light brown eyes. Eyes I saw twisted in
agony in many of my nightmares. “I apologize for my
mother, Samuel.”
I gave a terse nod, and he left. Emma’s face was ashen
as she looked up at me. I could feel the eyes of every guest
in the restaurant on us. Most of them were from our world
and knew or thought they knew what had happened. For
them, it was old news. Made Men died all the time, but they
were eager to see how I’d react, how Emma would react.
I sent them the coldest look I was capable of and many
averted their eyes. Then my gaze settled on Emma. She
swallowed hard. I touched her shoulder. “Come. Our table is
over there.”
Surprise filled her eyes, but she nodded and moved
toward the table with a view of another one of the city’s
lakes. It was the best table in the restaurant and had been
decorated with a vase with roses and candles.
I pushed Emma’s wheelchair close to the table, then took
my seat across from her. A hush had fallen over the
restaurant, but I knew people were whispering about what
happened and throwing us discreet looks.
“I’m very sorry,” Renato’s grandfather said as he handed
us the menus. “I tried to warn you through Renato.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle it,” I said firmly. I wouldn’t
show how much the encounter had shaken me. Fuck. I
doubted it wouldn’t ever not kill me inside to see
Domenico’s mother and her heartbreak. But today, she
attacked Emma as well, and I couldn’t allow that. He
nodded, gave Emma another warm smile, then left.
I looked down at the menu even though I knew it by
heart. I lifted my gaze when I felt Emma’s eyes on me.
“We could leave if you want, you know?”
I kept my face neutral. “No, it would look like weakness.
But we can just have two courses if you prefer to leave
quickly.”
Emma slowly shook her head. “It’s okay. I can handle it.
I’m used to people’s attention, and their judgment. Not
quite this aggressive but still.”
“She shouldn’t have attacked you. It’s my fault her son’s
dead. You are innocent. You didn’t even have a choice to
marry me.”
Emma moved her hand across the table, then froze,
uncertainty filling her eyes. Public displays of affection
weren’t something I or anyone from my family were known
for, but I put my hand on hers and left it there. People could
know that she was mine and that I had no trouble showing
it. Emma’s eyes softened. “If you ever want to talk…”
I cleared my throat and looked back down at the menu.
“The gnocchi al tartufo and the spaghetti al nero de seppie
are particularly good, but everything is delicious.”
“I’ll have the spaghetti then and the scaloppine
afterward. I’d really love a dessert too.”
“Take whatever you like.”
I ordered two glasses of prosecco to start and a bottle of
white wine to go with the primi. Emma and I clinked glasses.
Emma took two small sips while I emptied half the glass.
“I’m not used to drinking much so I don’t know how much of
the wine I’ll actually drink.”
“Don’t worry. I can hold my liquor.”
I was still a bit shaken over the confrontation, but after I’d
drank my prosecco, I felt more relaxed. Of course, I still
noticed the curious glances being cast our way. I had been
prepared for those, but I hadn’t expected an incident from
Samuel’s past to be the reason for it. I had been a child
when Samuel had tried to save his sister. Domenico must
have been with him and had lost his life cruelly. If he’d died
because of torture at the hands of the Falcones, it must
have been horrible. Had Samuel witnessed his death? Had
he been tortured too?
I could tell from Samuel’s closed-off face and from the
polite dinner conversation about food and the sights of
Minneapolis that he upheld that he wasn’t willing to share
anything. Definitely not here under the watchful eyes of so
many people.
When we headed back to Samuel’s car after dinner, I felt
unease at the idea of Samuel driving us home. He’d drunk a
lot. But I couldn’t drive myself. “We could ask Leo to pick us
up,” I said carefully.
Samuel shook his head. “I didn’t drink that much. I don’t
feel intoxicated.”
 He opened the passenger door for me. For him, the topic
was obviously over. I knew Made Men drank and drove, but
since my accident, I definitely was very aware when
someone did it. I didn’t remember anything from the
accident, or maybe my reaction would have been even
stronger. Still, my heart rate picked up as I slid into the car
and waited for Samuel to put my wheelchair in the trunk
before he slid in beside me.
My pulse didn’t stop racing during the ride home, but I
remained silent, not wanting to get into a fight with Samuel
at this early stage of our marriage. I could tell this topic
would make him angry if I confronted him more insistently.
Nothing happened, but I was still relieved when we arrived
at our mansion.
“I told you I’m not drunk,” Samuel said with a hint of
annoyance before he got out of the car. He must have
sensed my tension throughout the ride.
When he opened my door for me, I quickly gripped the
handle of my wheelchair before Samuel could lift me and
hoisted myself into it. I was too agitated. We walked up the
ramp side by side, and I was trying to choose my words
carefully, which proved very difficult. “I’m not sure it’s a
good thing that you’re not drunk, considering how much you
drank.” A glass of prosecco, a bottle of white wine, a glass
of red, and a digestif.
His walk became stiffer, and his face closed off as he
opened the front door for me. “You are my wife, not my
mother.” His hard eyes met mine. “My word is law in our
marriage, and you won’t tell me what to do. You won’t doubt
my decisions, especially not in front of others, understood?”
I flinched as if he’d slapped me. Of course, I knew he held
the reins in our marriage by tradition but for him to voice it
like that. “Understood.”
Before we’d left for the restaurant, I’d been eager to
return home and be intimate with Samuel. Now? Not so
much. The events of the evening had been unsettling in so
many ways, and his words now simply were my tipping
point. Nevertheless, I forced my voice to calm. “Would you
mind if I tried to call Giorgia? I want to hear her take on the
marriage to Renato.”
Samuel removed his jacket and hung it up in the
cloakroom, then he turned to me in his form-fitting white
shirt and gun holster. “Go ahead. I’ll have to call Renato
anyway.”
With a tight smile, I moved toward the living room while
Samuel disappeared in the direction of his office.
I closed my eyes briefly. Maybe I shouldn’t take Samuel’s
harsh words to heart. The incident in the restaurant had
definitely shaken him, even if he refused to admit it. I didn’t
want to nag, but Samuel didn’t talk to me, so I wasn’t sure
what exactly was going on. I had seen the brief flash of pain
in his eyes when Domenico’s mother had attacked him. If he
still carried so much guilt over his friend after all these
years, he must have gone through a lot.
I positioned my wheelchair in front of the panoramic
window and glanced out at the lake as I called Giorgia. It
was already past ten, but unlike me, she was a night owl
and spent at least an hour every night reading in bed.
“Emma! I tried to call you today, but you didn’t pick up.”
“Samuel and I had dinner at an Italian place so I had my
phone on mute.”
“Date night? So things are going well?”
I pursed my lips. Were they going well? “It’s going better
than anticipated, at least physically.” I blushed at the
mention of our sex life.
Giorgia giggled. “You probably won’t share any details?”
“I won’t, and it’s not why I’m calling. Did you really agree
to marry Renato? The guy who ogled your breasts like a
Neanderthal during my wedding?”
Giorgia sighed. “I did.”
“Why?”
 “Because my mother found a man for me in Italy who’s
twenty-two years older than me and makes a toad look like
a model.”
“Oh no, really?”
“She wants me to marry as soon as possible. It’s not like
I’m the best catch, considering my family isn’t high ranking,
and we’re not swimming in money.”
“But him?”
“He’s only nine years older than me, good-looking if you
ignore his intolerable character, and he needs to marry
soon.”
“He’s also a manwhore and won’t be faithful, according
to Samuel.”
“I don’t care. I need to get out of marrying that old fool in
Italy. And I’d be living close to you again.”
“That’s true. So you want Samuel to convince your
brother?”
“My brother isn’t the problem. My mother is.”
“Samuel can be convincing.”
“Then let him work his charm.”
We talked for another hour before I finally ended the call.
I went upstairs. As expected, Samuel wasn’t there. I
changed into my nightgown, then climbed into bed and read
a romance book Giorgia recommended. The heat level soon
made me feel quite hot, and I put the book down. Should I
go downstairs and check on Samuel?
Remembering his words about his command being law, I
decided to stay where I was. I had a feeling if I pushed too
hard right now, he would close himself off even more—if
that was even possible.
I woke to an empty bed the next day. It was seven, later
than my usual wake-up time, and the explanation why
Samuel wasn’t still in bed, but one look at his side made me
doubt he had slept here at all. Maybe he had fallen asleep in
his office again.
Sighing, I got ready for the day. I hadn’t heard from Ines
yet about the self-help group for Made Men, so I decided to
spend the day shopping. Samuel’s comment about my
shoes still hung in my head, and maybe a little out of spite, I
had every intention of buying a couple more heels for my
collection. I hadn’t chatted with Anna since the wedding, so
maybe I’d use my shopping spree to send her a couple of
pictures of my planned purchases and ask for her
professional advice. She was the Outfit’s fashionista after
all.
Once I was dressed for the day, I moved downstairs and
had breakfast then asked Leo to take me shopping. The
moment I reached the car, Leo appeared beside me and
held the door open. His expression burst with uncertainty.
“Should I help you?” He gestured from me to the back seat.
I smiled. “No, thank you.” I moved my wheelchair even
closer to the car until it touched the side of the car. Danilo’s
car had quite a few scratches because of this. I engaged the
brakes and grabbed the armrest of the door and the seat,
then used my legs to push me out of my wheelchair and
slide into the back seat.
I disengaged the brakes and gave Leo instructions on
how to fold my wheelchair before I closed the door and
waited for him to get into the car as well. I could tell that
Leo was still unsure how and if he was supposed to assist
me, but I knew that was only temporary until we found a
routine.
Luckily, Leo knew the best places from his years as
Sofia’s and Ines’s bodyguard. I felt strange spending the day
shopping like a trophy wife. I’d never considered myself one,
but today, I definitely acted like one. Leo remained my
shadow throughout the day and had lunch with me in a
small restaurant that belonged to an Outfit member so he
regarded it as safe.
On our way back home to the mansion, I finally decided
to give the dance studio a call and ask for a tryout session. I
was giddy and nervous when I hung up. It had been a long
time since I had dance lessons.
Leo gave me a worried look through the rearview mirror.
“Is this Outfit-owned?”
I frowned. I doubted the Outfit had any dance studios. “I
reckon the only dance studios the Outfit would maintain are
for exotic dance.”
He burst out laughing but sobered quickly. “Naturally, but
if this isn’t Outfit-owned, you need your husband’s
permission.”
I bit my lip. It wasn’t new that I needed to ask for
permission. Danilo had kept a very close eye on me, but
Samuel switched between hot and cold so quickly that I
wasn’t sure how much of my daily life he really wanted to
be involved in.
“You are right,” I said quietly.
Leo returned to the staff room, and I decided to take a
dip in the pool as it was a particularly warm summer day.
After changing into my bikini and a bathrobe, I wheeled
outside. Steps rang out, and Leo showed up on the terrace. I
raised my eyebrows.
“Samuel made it very clear that I should be by your side
the moment you are outside.”
I glanced around. Of course, even being in a garden
posed the risk of someone shooting you, but I couldn’t see
how Leo could stop a bullet from hitting me. I had no
intention of living my life in fear. I had survived to live.
“Then maybe a spot in the shade would be good,
considering your suit,” I said with a smile as I moved toward
the pool. Leo didn’t move into the shade nor did he sit. He
followed me but didn’t hover too closely.
I arrested the brakes and shrugged out of my bathrobe so
it bunched around my waist.
Leo’s eyes took in my triangle bikini top and exposed
belly, and he immediately turned his back to me. I pressed
my lips together to hold in laughter.
“I apologize.”
I sighed. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m in
swimwear.”
“It’s like underwear. It’s not something I should see
without prior approval of your husband.”
I didn’t say anything else. My words wouldn’t convince
Leo. As Samuel had said, his word was law, not just in our
marriage. I set my feet down on the white stone and pushed
out of the wheelchair but steadied myself on the handle in
the back. Leo turned and made a move as if to come to my
side. I raised my free hand, and he froze and looked away
again.
 I grabbed the railing that led down the stairs into the pool
and slowly lowered myself into the water. Once I was fully
immersed, I allowed myself to float. I loved the sensation.
Leo moved to the side and settled on a lounge chair. He
checked our surroundings, very intent on ignoring me.
After over an hour of swimming and floating, I felt hungry.
It must have been close to dinnertime by now, considering
the way the sun hung low in the sky. I swam toward the
ladder and began my slow ascend, my hands on the railing
turning white from their grip. I was on the last step, about to
put my foot onto the stone tile, but underestimated how
slippery it would be, and I didn’t have the necessary muscle
tone to catch myself. Before I could fall back into the water,
arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me safely onto
the ground. “Thank you,” I said, flustered. Leo’s alert eyes
met mine, then he released my waist like he was burned. He
took my arm instead, but I was shaky on my feet, so he had
no choice but to wrap an arm around my shoulders.
“I apologize for the touch,” he said.
Steps sounded, and Samuel appeared on the terrace,
dressed in suit pants and a white shirt. His eyes narrowed
on Leo. “I advise you to reevaluate your hand placement.”
Leo looked pained. “I have to steady her.”
Samuel was at our side and took my bodyguard’s place.
He immediately lifted me into his arms, which meant his
clothes were soaked completely, but he didn’t seem to
mind. He regarded Leo intensely.
“She fell,” Leo said.
“You protected her. I just want to make sure you use
moments like this not for accidental improper touches that
would result in a very unpleasant reaction on my part.”
“I won’t.”
It took every ounce of control I had not to say something,
but if I undermined Samuel’s power in front of his soldier, he
would be angry. “I’ll take over now.”
Leo gave me a small nod, then strode away.
 Samuel’s gaze finally settled on me. “Are you okay?”
“I stumbled but didn’t fall. Leo caught me before I could
make impact. I’m fine. He did his job.”
“He didn’t act in a way that made you uncomfortable?”
“No. He touched me as little as possible, but he had to
steady me. He avoided looking anywhere near me once he
saw I was only in a bikini. He was very careful not to risk
your wrath.”
Samuel’s mouth twitched, obviously pleased with the
level of control he had over his men. Then his gaze dipped
to my body still in his hold. “It must have been difficult for
him not to look. You look very beautiful in this little nothing.”
“It covers all the important places,” I argued. It wasn’t
even a thong bikini like Anna wore on occasion.
“It covers the places only I have a right to see.”
I rolled my eyes. Then I registered the see-through state
of his shirt. “You ruined your clothes.”
“We should dry you.” He carried me over to the towel
cabinet, set me down with one arm firmly around my back,
and took a towel. He helped me wrap it around my body,
then carried me back toward my wheelchair and set me
down. He seemed in a better mood than last night, for which
I was glad. My belly rumbled. I let out an embarrassed
laugh. “Swimming always makes me hungry.”
“Seeing you in your swimwear makes me hungry too.”
I swallowed at the implication. I still wasn’t used to this
very sexually open side of Samuel. He had been so very
restrained and distant up until our first time.
“Let’s grab dinner first. I don’t want you to starve.”
He took me into the dining room, then disappeared
upstairs to change clothes. He returned in a very relaxed
style for him. A white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to
his elbows and a beige chino, no belt. He sank down across
from me. We always sat at the very end of the table so we
were close while being able to look at each other’s face. It
allowed for actual dinner conversation without having to
scream over the long table.
Our cook served food the moment we had taken our
seats. Tonight, it was racks of lamb with a salad of wild
herbs and roasted carrots. The perfect food for a warm day.
She left a bottle of red wine on the table for us. Samuel took
the bottle and lifted it. “Would you like a glass?”
I quickly shook my head. I couldn’t drink every day.
Samuel poured himself a generous glass. We ate in silence
for a while, mainly because I was so hungry and needed to
sate my first hunger, not to mention that the lamb melted
on your tongue. Eventually, Samuel leaned back in his chair,
took a gulp from his wine as he regarded me. “Leo
mentioned you made an appointment at a dance studio.”
Anger burst through me. So he wasn’t only listening to
my calls but he also reported to Samuel before I could tell
him?
“His duty is to me, Emma. There’s no reason to be angry
with him.”
I put down my cutlery. “So you suggest I should be angry
with you for spying on me.”
Remembering how I’d checked his phone, warmth crept
into my cheeks, but I held my head high, too stubborn to
back down. Samuel’s cool blue eyes held mine without a
flicker of remorse in them. His gaze was unrelenting and
dominant. It was a struggle to hold it. Eventually, I dropped
my gaze under the pretense of grabbing my glass to drink. I
doubted I fooled Samuel.
When I looked up, his expression was pleased. “Why do
you want to go to that dance studio?”
“To dance. I would like to dance again. It’s as simple as
that.”
Samuel tilted his head, obviously curious.
“It’s a studio that specializes in integrative dance.”
“It is not Outfit-owned, nor do they pay us for
protection.”
 I huffed. “It’s a dance studio. I doubt there are many
under your protection.”
“None, unless you count pole dancing.”
I shook my head in exasperation. “Leo can accompany
me there like he does everywhere else.”
“Will you dance with male partners?”
“That depends. Maybe. But of course, I can’t do the same
moves as someone without a wheelchair would, so not
everything is possible.”
Samuel gave a shake of his head. “I don’t like the idea of
you being surrounded by people who aren’t part of our
world. They don’t share our values, nor do they know the
consequences of breaking them.”
“Leo will be there, and even most Outsiders will be very
aware of who you are.”
“I’m a businessman with a net worth of many millions.”
“Yeah. Nobody believes that.”
Samuel shrugged. “I don’t want you to do any sports or
anything really outside of our world.”
“But—”
“Emma, I made my decision, and you will obey.”
Tears of anger sprang into my eyes. I had been looking
forward to this and he was taking it from me because he
wanted to stay in utter control. I pushed back from the
table. “I’m not hungry anymore. If you’ll excuse me.” I left
before he could say something. I didn’t care if I shouldn’t act
like this so shortly into our marriage. He made me utterly
furious. There were enough restrictions in my life as a
disabled woman in our world. Why did he have to put more
on me?
I got ready for bed even though it wasn’t that late yet,
but I’d simply had enough of the day. I perched on the edge
when Samuel entered. His gaze settled on me. He looked
angry. He stalked toward me and towered over me. I jutted
my chin out and stared at him. He bent down and cupped
my head, his lips crashing down on mine as he pressed me
back into the mattress with his body. I was utterly stunned
by his actions but kissed him back as his tongue plunged
into my mouth. He pulled back slightly, his blond brows in a
deep frown. “I don’t think I like your temper.”
He kissed me again before I had a chance to say
anything in return. His kiss robbed me of my ability to think,
but I was still hurt and angry. I didn’t want him to think I
would just tolerate it all. His hand slid down my waist and
under my nightgown. I brought my palms against his
shoulders and pressed as hard as I could, and tore my lips
from his. “No, stop. I don’t want this.”
His fingers had reached my panties by now. His hungry
gaze hit me. “Your body speaks a different language.”
I glared. “I guess then it’s for you to decide whether my
spoken no is worth honoring or if your will rules in every
regard in our marriage.”
Samuel glowered at me. He pulled his hand away from
my panties and shoved to his feet. His erection tented his
pants. My body still longed for his touch, but I wanted to
send a message even if I deprived myself too. “Your no
always trumps everything.” He turned on his heel and
stalked out of the bedroom, closing the door with more force
than necessary.
I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. My
panties clung to me with arousal. After I had discarded
them, I returned to bed again. I had little hope for sleep,
though.
Samuel didn’t come to bed that night, nor the following
three nights. Our conversations during dinner were polite
but distant. I ached for him and more closeness again. He
had dark shadows under his eyes, obviously not getting
much sleep in his office, and I also feared he drank more
than he should. I wasn’t sure how to address his drinking
habits without another major fight.
I waited for him in bed the fifth night in a row, finally
deciding I had to be the one who made the first move.
Samuel was obviously too stubborn and proud, and maybe
he was just content living in solitude, but I could not.
He didn’t like to be mothered, but he was obviously not
taking care of himself. After a few more minutes of
deliberation, I moved downstairs. Light flooded into the
corridor from Samuel’s office. The door was wide open.
Maybe this was a sign? Maybe Samuel wanted me to seek
him out?
I moved into the doorway and spotted Samuel on the
sofa in front of the fireplace, a glass of dark alcohol in his
hand. On the fireplace, two photographs were propped up
like a memento: one of him and his twin. They were
teenagers and looked remarkably alike, though he was a
head taller than her already. The other showed him with four
young men. I only recognized Renato, but I had a feeling I
knew who the three others were.
The flames played on his face and accentuated the
darkness that had obviously taken hold of him. I hated to
see him brooding in front of the fireplace, sinking deeper
and deeper into the past and the mistakes he blamed
himself for. Would he allow me to help him? I wanted to
console him. I didn’t have much hope that he would open up
to me today. That would take time, but maybe he’d allow
me to make him feel better. I knew how tightly the shadows
from the past could hold on to you, but I had freed myself—
mostly—of them. The past still held Samuel in its relentless
grip. I had to show him that I was his future, and we could
shape it in a way that overpowered any darkness that the
past held.
I heard the soft squeal of the wheelchair tires before Emma
appeared in the doorway, shrouded in shadows. She was
already in her nightgown. Her slim calves and elegant bare
feet poked out despite the chill in the house.
She worried her lower lip as she watched me silently for a
minute.
She wheeled over to me. I wished she would stop trying
to drag me out from behind the walls I’d built, but I could
see she wanted to try. She didn’t need my worries on top of
her own.
I glanced away. “You should go to bed. It’s late.”
I had avoided her for the past few days. Part of it to make
it easier on me resisting her. My body called for her
closeness. The other was my stubborn streak. I regretted my
decision to forbid Emma from taking dance lessons, but
admitting to it wasn’t easy.
 “Won’t you join me?” she asked in her clear, gentle voice.
“I’ve missed you these past few nights.”
Her vulnerable admittance surprised me. After she’d
pushed me away, I had thought she would prefer a little
distance too. I knew she was eager for my touch, had been
that day too, but my father had been very clear in regard to
certain lines even men with our power shouldn’t cross.
“I can’t sleep. I’ll return to work once I’m done with my
drink.” Or rather my drinks. On nights like this one, Scotch
was never enough. While Dante steered the Outfit toward
more political involvement in Chicago, the overall mood in
my city was to stick to our traditions even more than ever.
The Traditionalists were growing stronger again, asking to
make bloody statements that would put the Bratva and our
other enemies in place. Father and I needed to decide
whether we’d do that in Minneapolis and possibly risk the
death of more soldiers for a limited time. I knew the
pressure on Danilo and Cincinatti was even higher,
considering their territories bordered Famiglia territory.
Nights like this had become the standard. Would a harder
line condemn more young men to their deaths? My gaze
found the photo of Domenico, Arlo, and Enea.
Emma followed my gaze. “I want to help you, Samuel.”
I didn’t react.
“I’m a good listener.”
“I don’t want to talk,” I clipped.
Emma stopped right beside me. “Please let me help you,
Samuel.”
My fingers around the glass tightened. “You can’t help
me, so stop trying.” My words were harsher than intended.
Emma didn’t seem bothered by my tone. She simply
nodded, but she still didn’t leave. “Then let me take care of
you.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant until she arrested the
brakes of her wheelchair and set down her bare feet on the
floor. Gripping my knees for support, she pushed forward,
then slid to her knees before me. I sat up abruptly and
grasped her frail wrists in one of mine to stop her hands
from reaching for my zipper. “What are you doing?” I
rasped. I’d dreamed about this, but I hadn’t expected Emma
to make the first move.
“I’m going to take care of you.” Her fingers trembled
slightly as she gripped my zipper. “Or don’t you want me
to?” The last part was said with a teasing smile that sent
more blood down into my cock.
“I don’t want you to,” I said, but that wasn’t true. The
idea of Emma giving me a blow job had crossed my mind
repeatedly.
She raised her eyebrows, detecting the lie. Emma could
read me better than many others. Maybe it was a good
thing in a marriage, but it also made it harder to hide all the
baggage I was carrying.
I shook my head with a sardonic smile, then I sighed. “I
wasn’t sure you wanted it. Are you sure?”
She narrowed her eyes, and I could tell how angry my
words made her, which surprised me. I thought she might
be grateful for my consideration. I knew some women didn’t
like giving head, and Emma was still very inexperienced.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just want to treat my wife right.”
“If I want to go down on you and offer to do it, you can be
certain that I’m sure.”
I settled back against the armchair.
Her nimble fingers did quick work of my fly, pulling it
down, and then she freed my cock, which was already half
erect from just seeing her kneeling before me. She curled
her fingers around the base, squeezing hard so my cock
twitched and filled with even more blood. She leaned
forward, her lips parting, and then she took my tip into her
mouth. I groaned at the feel of her heat enveloping me. She
took her time sucking and licking my tip, her eyes closed.
She was testing it out, and she was doing a good job. Her
hot mouth and teasing tongue relaxed my tense muscles
and banished some of the darkness that cloaked my
thoughts.
I began bucking my hips lightly, and she got my clue and
took more of me into her mouth. One of her hands began
massaging my balls while she sucked me deeper and
deeper into her mouth. I moaned and leaned back against
the backrest. Despite the tiredness that beckoned me to
close my eyes, I kept watching Emma. Sometimes she
opened her eyes to follow her tongue tracing along my
shaft. I could tell she enjoyed this, and fuck, that was an
additional turn-on.
“Suck harder,” I growled when I felt myself getting closer
to release and Emma didn’t hesitate. Soon my hands
gripped the armrest tightly, and my hips thrust up in rhythm
with her sucking.
“I’m coming,” I warned seconds before my balls
tightened. Emma’s hold around my shaft tightened, and she
took me deeply into her mouth, and then my orgasm
slammed into me. My head fell back, and my eyes fell shut
as I pumped upward, my balls twitching as I released into
Emma’s mouth.
I basked in the sensations, the feel of Emma’s silky
tongue and lips, her heat and fierce pounding of my heart
reminding me I was still very much alive. My cock stopped
twitching, but Emma kept sucking me. Fuck, this felt good.
Slowly, she released me.
When I opened my eyes, Emma still clutched my now
softening cock, and she licked her lips, then her eyes darted
up to meet mine. Lust and embarrassment mingled in her
brown eyes, a potent mix that set my blood on fire. Some of
my cum had dribbled down her chin and slid down between
the valley of her pretty tits.
I wanted to give back. I wanted to taste her. I wasn’t
usually someone who gave oral. Not with the whores or my
one-night stands. A long time ago with my affairs, I had
given on occasion, but now with Emma, I was desperate to
eat her out, to taste her pussy, to claim her with my tongue
and mouth like my cock and fingers had done.
Emma searched my eyes. “Was that okay for you?”
I let out a hoarse laugh and leaned forward, gripping her
chin and pressing a kiss to her swollen lips. “It was more
than okay, Emma. It was exactly what I needed, but now it’s
my turn to give you what you need.”
She flushed, desire flashing in her eyes. Yes, she wanted
my mouth on her pussy as much as I’d needed to come in
her mouth. I stood, allowing my pants to slide down. Emma
looked at my half-erect cock and bit her lip, then darted her
gaze up to me. I couldn’t wait to be buried between her
legs.

Samuel picked me up and hoisted me into his armchair. I

was completely surprised by his actions. His gaze holding
mine, he slipped his hands below my nightgown and gripped
the waistband of my panties. Slowly, he dragged them
down. I stifled a gasp when the fabric came loose from
where it stuck to my heated flesh.
 My cheeks flushed when Samuel retrieved my drenched
panties. His eyes took in their state and filled with a feral
lust that increased the pounding between my legs. “I’m glad
you enjoyed sucking me off.”
I had, but hearing him say it still drove heat into my
cheeks. Enjoying sex, especially oral, wasn’t something that
was part of our world’s programming of women. “I did,” I
admitted, wanting to be honest. “And I want to do it again.”
A smirk ghosted over his face. “You will, Emma.”
His low growl made me ache for his touch in a torturous
way.
As if he could sense my rising need, he pushed my legs
apart and draped them over the armrests. He gripped the
hem of my nightgown and exposed my dripping center. A
new wave of embarrassment washed down on me, but I
didn’t lower my gaze. I’d come to hate people averting their
eyes, and I didn’t want to do it with my husband.
Samuel didn’t give me much time to be embarrassed.
Without another word, he leaned forward, bowed his head
over my heated flesh, and dragged his tongue from my
opening to my clit.
My hips twitched, and my hands shot out to grip the
armrest. Samuel gripped my outer thighs hard and pulled
my ass closer to the edge before he pressed his mouth to
my pussy and dipped his tongue into me. “Samuel,” I
exclaimed. I was still a bit hesitant because of my state of
arousal, wondering how it tasted for Samuel. He briefly let
up, his eyes arresting mine.
“Trust me, Emma, I like everything about this. Your
delicious taste.” He dragged his tongue ever so slowly over
my opening. “The sounds coming from your mouth. Seeing
proof of how much you got off on sucking my cock, and
tasting how much you enjoy me eating you out. And now
relax and let me lick that pussy like it deserves to be licked.
I want you to come on my tongue.”
 I was stunned by his words. So far, Samuel had been
controlled and the silent, brooding type, even in bed. This
new side of him was one I liked very much. Very very much.
Samuel lowered his head, and his tongue dipped
between my folds again, sliding back and forth, tracing my
sensitive skin. I relaxed against the backrest and watched
Samuel take care of me like I had taken care of him.
Watching his mouth pressed against my pussy, his tongue
nudging my button, and his pleased grin, I felt my arousal
spike quickly. After a moment of hesitation, I pushed my
fingers into his hair. His eyes briefly flitted up, meeting mine
as the tip of his tongue circled my clit. He hummed and
smirked as he teased me. The sight was too much, and my
body began spasming even as I fought against it, not
wanting the pleasure to end so soon. Samuel’s smirk
broadened. He cupped my clit with his tongue and upper lip,
sending me over the edge. My butt arched off the seat,
propelling my pussy harder against Samuel’s mouth, who
took up the invitation and sucked harder.
I cried out, my careful touch of his hair becoming a
desperate tug that Samuel rewarded with another suck of
my clit. I rested my head back against the headrest. Samuel
raised his eyebrow. “Why do you look disappointed?”
I laughed, half embarrassed. “Not because of you. That
was amazing.” I flushed even more. “I just didn’t want it to
be over so soon.”
Samuel stroked two fingers along my slit, gathering my
juices. “Who said this was over?” He pushed into me slowly,
making my lips fall open as my walls clenched around his
fingers. He curled them deep inside me, making me arch up
a little as my body became alive again. “It’s not?” I asked
with a teasing smile, my voice shaky.
“No,” Samuel said in a voice so deep and dark, it seemed
to come straight out of my most lustful fantasies. He
pumped his fingers slowly. They glistened with my lust. His
eyes on me, he leaned forward and dragged his tongue
along my folds, joining his fingers in their magical work. The
deep thrusts of his fingers and the gentle caress of his
tongue sent flashes of lust through me. He was staying
away from my clit. I knew I’d come apart the second he
touched it. Maybe he did too because he kept pleasuring my
opening with his fingers and tongue while his eyes pinned
me with their intensity. When his tongue finally brushed
over my throbbing clit, I exploded once more. My release
dripped down my ass cheeks, and Samuel chased it with his
tongue, which made me shudder even harder.
“Bed?” he asked. I merely nodded. I didn’t care where
Samuel took me as long as we kept doing what we were
doing. He picked me up and carried me into the lobby. His
lips came down on mine again as he stumbled into the
elevator with me in his arms. He briefly set me down to hit
the up button but never ceased his assault on my lips.
Suddenly, Samuel hoisted me up, hooking my legs
around his hips, and kissed me even harder. “Fuck, I can’t
wait.” With my back pressed against the elevator wall,
Samuel impaled me on his cock. I gasped from the shock of
the invasion, from the fullness of having him so deeply
buried inside me. My weight bearing down seemed to drive
him even deeper into me, making me feel utterly full. His
tongue dominated mine as his hips pistoled upward for
another hard thrust. I clung to his shoulders, the back of my
head bumping against the hard surface. The elevator
arrived on the upper floor, but we didn’t step outside.
Every hard thrust made me feel alive and filled my body
with a rush of pleasure that made me feel lightheaded.
Samuel cupped the back of my head, deepening our kiss
even more, and, at the same time, protecting me from
hitting the wall again, even if I’d hardly minded.
He drew away briefly. “Too hard?”
I buried my nails even deeper into his shoulders. If I
could, I would have pressed my heels into his firm ass
cheeks to keep him in place. “No, don’t stop.”
 “Oh I won’t stop fucking you, Emma, but is it too hard?”
He accentuated the last word with another, even harder
thrust that made his pelvis slap deliciously against my clit.
“No. I need to come.”
“You will.”
We seemed to become one, our bodies entwined, as
Samuel slammed into me with fierce passion. I pressed my
face into his throat, still drained by my second orgasm but
eager for another one.
Samuel’s thrust became so hard that my pussy throbbed
from the vicious invasion, but I was so close.
Samuel pressed his lips against my ear as he shoved his
cock even deeper into me, making me see stars. “I still taste
your sweet pussy in my mouth. I want to lick you every day
now, Emma.”
Hearing Samuel’s sexy drawl made my release wash over
me. My pussy walls clamped down on Samuel’s cock, and
after a few more hard thrusts, he came deep inside me. He
straightened with me still pressed against him and strode
out of the elevator.
After we showered together, Samuel and I found
ourselves in bed. I was cuddled against him, my face
pressed to his chest. Being close like this came so naturally,
but I needed more than a connection of our bodies.
My heart hammered in my chest as I tried to catch my
breath. Sex with Emma would become better every time we
did it. I could already tell. She was eager to learn, and I was
willing to teach her. With her little surprise seduction, she’d
pulled me out of a dark moment. I would probably have
been drunk by now if Emma hadn’t shown up and sucked
me off.
Emma stroked my chest, making me relax into the
mattress. She cast her eyes up, and I could tell she wanted
to talk.
“Did something happen to make you want to look at
those photos? Or is it still because of the mother’s outburst
in the restaurant?”
“It’s happened many times before. I try to avoid crossing
her path, but sometimes it’s difficult. My father and I have
to make certain decisions that might mean the death of
more young men. They too could die cruelly like my friend
Domenico if we decide to take a harder line.”
Guilt squeezed my stomach as it always did when I talked
about Domenico, his family, or any of my dead friends.
Emma tilted her head in consideration. “Why do you feel
guilty for your friends’ deaths?”
I wasn’t sure how much of the story she knew. I hadn’t
talked to many people about what had happened. To Renato
because I needed to, to Dante because I had to, to Dad
because I wanted to. But the full enormity of that day,
especially Dominico’s death, was locked in the deepest
corners of my heart.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Maybe, but I want to hear it from you.”
“My best friends died because of me. I led them to their
death. My plan was shitty. I should have known I couldn’t
attack the Falcone mansion and get out alive. Not with only
a handful of people. I would have needed an army, and even
then, many people would have died, but I only had one
thought: to save my sister. Nothing else mattered. I
accepted the risk to my friends’ lives.”
“You wanted to save your twin, that’s understandable,
and you asked your friends for help, which is
understandable as well. Don’t you think they would have
insisted on joining you even if you hadn’t asked them? They
were your best friends after all.”
“Probably,” I admitted. “But I asked them and didn’t
leave them a choice.”
“They could have said no, Samuel. They could have said
they didn’t want to go against their Capo. That way they
wouldn’t even have lost face by refusing your request.”
“None of them would have ever said no.”
“Would you have said no if one of them had asked you to
save his sister from enemy territory?”
“Of course not,” I said. If Renato would ask me to save
someone he cared about, I wouldn’t hesitate. And I wouldn’t
have hesitated back then either.
“They knew what they were getting into. They were
adults and Made Men. They weren’t ignorant of what it
meant to attack the Falcone mansion. Even I know what an
attack on the Falcones means. But they chose to risk it for
you.”
My heart felt heavy. I still carried that sense of guilt with
me. “And they died.”
I squeezed his hand. “Yes. Which was an outcome they
had taken into consideration.”
I nodded. I stroked Emma’s hair away from her back and
traced a few scars on her back. “For me to forgive myself,
I’d need their forgiveness first, but I can’t get it. With every
milestone I reach, I’m aware of the milestones they won’t
ever experience.”
“They would have forgiven you eventually.”
“What about you? Would you have forgiven the man who
was responsible for the accident?”
Emma’s brows puckered, but eventually, she nodded. “I
have forgiven him.”
I couldn’t understand how she could be so forgiving.
Maybe it came with being a Made Man, but forgiveness
didn’t cross my mind when I heard Emma’s story.
“Because he paid the ultimate price?”
“Even if my family hadn’t killed him, I would have
eventually forgiven him. What he did was wrong, but he
didn’t mean to hurt me. Nothing of what happened was his
intention. It happened. I didn’t want his death, but nobody
asked me. He was already dead when I woke from my coma.
Danilo killed him before I could forgive him.”
I doubted that was all that Danilo did, just kill him.
Knowing him, he’d probably made him suffer before. I would
have done the same if someone had hurt Sofia or Fina like
that. Fuck, I wanted nothing more than to hurt Remo like
that and then kill him.
 “You lost a lot because he drank and drove,” I said
merely. Remembering how I’d drank and drove today, and
how I’d even done the same with Emma in a car with me, I
wondered how Emma had felt. While I hadn’t felt
intoxicated, I knew that accidents were more likely to
happen.
“I lost something, yes, but my life isn’t less because of it.
It’s different. And I would have wanted him to get punished,
but I would have forgiven him if he’d asked for forgiveness.”
She paused. “But this is still different from your case. I
didn’t have a choice. I didn’t even know he was drunk. But
your friends went into the mission knowing the risks.”
I knew Emma was right. Sometimes I got close to making
peace with myself. Emma pushed herself up and kissed me
lightly. “You should forgive yourself.”
“I’ll consider it,” I said ironically.
“Maybe we can go to their graves together? If you share
the burden of your guilt and grief, maybe it’ll be easier to let
go.”
My first instinct was to say no. I preferred to be alone at
their graves. Renato was the only person I could tolerate
there on occasion. But I actually liked the idea of having
Emma’s calming presence with me one day. Maybe not yet.
We still weren’t there yet, but she was definitely a person
who I could imagine allowing this. “I’ll consider it.”
Emma snuggled closer to me, and I could sense her
contentment. She wanted to help me to defeat my demons,
and she was happy that I finally allowed her to try.
I fell asleep in Samuel’s arms and didn’t wake until morning.
When I did, Samuel was still in bed with me. I smiled and
rolled closer to him. I was fairly sure Samuel would have
spent the night in his office getting drunk if I hadn’t taken
the initiative. It had taken all my courage, but I was pleased
with the outcome. Not only had the sex been amazing but
Samuel had finally opened up to me as well.
Fifteen minutes later, Samuel was under the shower, and
I checked my messages. Ines had written late last night,
letting me know that the priest had invited me to visit the
community center where today’s meetings were held. I was
excited about the prospect of finally helping Made Men who
struggled with their disabilities. It was rare for men like that
to accept help at all.
I got out of bed, and after a moment of hesitation, I
slipped into the bathroom. Samuel had left the door ajar, so
I assumed he didn’t mind me being in the bathroom while
he showered. My eyes were drawn to the shower, where
Samuel rinsed off the shower gel from his body. His eyes
met mine as he washed his half-erect cock and abs.
Swallowing, I moved to the sink and brushed my teeth. I
was supposed to be at the community center by ten. That
wouldn’t happen if I got sidetracked by having sex with
Samuel.
Samuel stepped out and wrapped a towel around his
waist.
“I’m going to meet our priest today to discuss how I can
help the Made Men with disabilities.”
Samuel nodded, but I got a little distracted by the
droplets of water rivuleting down his chest. “Leo will take
you there. I bought a Mercedes Vito and had it modified so
you can enter the back with your wheelchair. That way, you
won’t have to rely on him to help you into the car.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “You did?”
He nodded as if this wasn’t a big deal. “You like your
independence, and this will make traveling by car far more
comfortable for you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, wheeling over to him and
touching his hand on the counter.
He gave me a small smile.
“Regarding Leo… I’m not sure if his presence at the
meetings will always be helpful. Some Made Men won’t feel
comfortable to share their struggles when he’s around.
They’ll put up a tough front.”
Samuel shook his head, his expression resolute. “I want
him with you at all times, Emma. I need to know you’re
protected.”
I nodded reluctantly. Samuel glanced at his watch. “I
need to leave. There’s a meeting with our Captains.”
He pressed a quick kiss to my lips before he headed out.
I got dressed, then let Leo drive me to the community
center, a small flat-roofed building beside the main Catholic
church of the Outfit in the city.
Priest Agnellus waited in front of the building, easily
recognizable by his cassock. He was bald but not as old as
I’d suspected, maybe in his late thirties. I wondered how he
lived with the confessions of the Made Men. Leo opened the
trunk for me so I could slide back out.
 Priest Agnellus met me halfway and shook my hand.
“Mrs. Mione, Geno and I are very honored about your
interest in our project.”
“I think it’s very important to offer mental support to
Made Men and their families who are affected by a
disability.”
Leo trailed us as the priest led me up the ramp into the
community center. In its center was a big round table with a
dozen chairs around them. A TV screen was bolted to one
wall with two wide sofas in front of it. Horse racing and a
boxing match with the betting quotes showed on the screen,
but the sound was off. A pool table and darts were
additional entertainment.
“Bets are Geno’s and my sin,” Priest Agnellus said with
an embarrassed laugh.
“Bets aren’t Geno’s only sin,” Leo said with a rough
laugh. I slanted him a look, but he didn’t elaborate.
“I’m a Made Man, Leo. My sins are various,” a deep male
voice said from the doorway to what I assumed was a
kitchen, judging by the microwave and coffee maker I
spotted behind him when I turned. He was a tall and broad
man, perhaps in his late twenties. He looked a little rugged
with a short beard and disheveled brown hair.
He came toward us with a thermos in one hand and four
mugs dangling by their handles from his other. His gait was
the slightest bit uneven as if one of his legs was shorter
than the other. He set down everything on the table before
he tilted his head in greeting. “Mrs. Mione. We’ve heard a lot
about you.”
Leo gave him a harsh look, then pulled up a chair at the
table and sat down. He obviously had no intention of giving
us privacy. I didn’t want to discuss the matter in front of the
two other men. Later, there would be time to ask him for a
little distance.
“It’s Emma,” I said with a small smile up at Geno. “The
same goes for you, Priest Agnellus. And I assume everything
you heard was positive.” I made a face that clearly showed I
knew that wasn’t the case.
Geno removed one of the chairs so I could slide closer to
the table, and I did. “I don’t have to tell you how our world
sees us.”
Geno sank down to my left but with a chair between us.
Priest Agnellus took the seat across from us.
I wondered what exactly Geno’s disability was, as it
wasn’t immediately apparent.
Geno pulled up his jeans leg, revealing a prosthesis up to
his thigh. The knee prosthesis gleamed in the halogen lights
above our heads, but the rest was black. “I got trapped
under debris after the Camorra blew up one of our
nightclubs five years ago. Lost a leg and hearing in my left
ear.”
“And you decided to help others with disabilities?” I
asked.
Geno lifted a mug with a questioning expression.
“Yes, please.”
He poured the steaming hot black coffee into my mug,
then handed it to me. “For almost two years now. During the
first three years, Priest Agnellus helped me.”
“He’s still a Made Man. Has been back to work for a year
now.”
Geno narrowed his eyes at Leo. “For eighteen months.
But I was a Made Man before that too. All the men who we
help are still Made Men, even if they aren’t active. The only
way to leave the Outfit is by death or betrayal.”
Leo shrugged. “Of course.”
I glanced between the two, sensing a certain dislike.
“What do you do for the Outfit?”
Geno regarded me carefully. “I’m one of your husband’s
and father-in-law’s enforcers.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised that he showed kindness by
helping other Made Men with disabilities but, at the same
time, tortured people.
 “You atone for your sins,” the priest said.
Doubt filled Geno’s face, but he didn’t voice it.
“How do you usually help? And what can I do?”
“We have an open meeting twice a week. We also do
house visits for those who don’t feel well enough to venture
out,” Priest Agnellus said.
“How many come to the meetings?”
Geno took a sip from his coffee and shrugged. “The
outcome depends. Sometimes we’re only a handful.
Sometimes almost two dozen.”
“I’d love to be part of a meeting one day if the others
don’t mind.”
“Actually,” Priest Agnellus looked caught as he
exchanged a look with Geno.
“We have a meeting in fifteen minutes. We were hoping
to attract many with your presence.”
Leo glowered. “You should have made me aware
beforehand. More people means we need additional
protection.”
Geno pulled back the leather jacket he was wearing,
revealing two glocks. “I’m capable of defending her too, but
I can assure you that the men coming here today have
enough problems. They don’t need the prospect of a brutal
death at Samuel’s hand.”
“Maybe they’re hoping for a bullet to the head from me
to end their misery. Suicide is still sin,” Leo growled.
I slammed my hand on the table, surprising myself and
the men beside me. My eyes were wide in shock over my
outburst, but I narrowed them at Leo. “I appreciate your
concern, but that was a very cruel thing to say. I can assure
you my life isn’t miserable, and neither is theirs.”
“I’m sorry, but your situation is very different. Many Made
Men don’t see themselves as men once they aren’t active,”
Leo said, tilting his head in apology.
Geno leaned back in his chair with a dark look. “He’s
right. The suicide rate for Made Men with grave disabilities
is high. Nothing’s worse than being regarded as half a man
or a burden.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to argue, but I knew he
was only stating facts. “I hope I can change how some men
see themselves.”
“I do too,” Geno said honestly. He nodded toward the
front door. “Here comes one of them.”
Leo got up, causing Geno to let out an amused snort.
A tall teenage boy entered the center with a muscled
man in his forties. They looked like father and son. My first
instinct was to look at the older man, but his demeanor was
too confident as if he thought this was a waste of time. My
gaze settled on the tall, dark blond boy.
The father nudged the boy’s shoulder hard, so he looked
up at him, then he spoke very slowly and clearly. “I won’t
have time to pick you up. Take a taxi.” The boy gave a terse
nod, then his eyes darted to us.
“Fiorentino, fifteen. Born deaf. His father is Captain.”
I had gathered that the boy was hard of hearing, but I
wondered why the father didn’t sign with him. Both strode
toward me after the father gave a nod toward Leo.
“Mrs. Mione,” the father said with a small bow of his
head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded toward his
son. “This is my son, Fiorentino. He can’t hear.”
I smiled at both of them, then began to sign to the boy.
His eyes keenly followed my hands. He definitely knew how
to read sign language. But he didn’t reply, only glanced at
his father. “I don’t like it when he signs. It makes him look
like an imbecile.”
“That’s a very rude name to call your son. It’s just a form
of communication.”
He gave me a tight smile that made it clear he didn’t
agree.
“You can’t sign?” I inquired after a moment of strained
silence.
 “No,” he clipped. He glanced at his watch. “I need to
leave.” He leveled his gaze on his son. “Act as if you were a
Made Man. Don’t embarrass me.”
The boy nodded again. He didn’t relax until his father
was outside.
“You aren’t a Made Man yet?” I signed and said for
Geno’s and the priest’s benefit.
The boy looked at Geno, who nodded.
“My father doesn’t want me to become a Made Man
because I’m not of value to the cause.”
I frowned. “That’s horrible.”
“Fiorentino has five younger sisters, and his mother is
pregnant with the sixth,” Geno said.
“To produce an heir who can become Captain?”
Fiorentino nodded, his expression shut off. He regarded
me with the hope that I could help him. But what could I
possibly do? By now, more men were filing in, all of them
older than Fiorentino, some old enough to be my
grandfather. I greeted them all, and eventually, they settled
on the chairs around the table or took a seat in front of the
TV. Five men were wheelchair users. Others had lost their
sight, their arms or hands, foot or leg, and one had
obviously suffered a serious injury to his head judging by
the scar that ran across his skull.
I talked to a few who seemed open to a conversation and
eventually stopped by Fiorentino’s side, who was talking to
Geno. They weren’t signing, and I noticed that the boy had
put in hearing aids. When I stopped beside them, they fell
silent. “Should we sign, or would you like to continue like
this?”
“I’m not very good at signing,” Geno said with an
embarrassed smile.
“Oh. All right. Should I sign and talk?” I asked Fiorentino.
He shook his head. “Just talk. I can hear you if you don’t
talk too quietly.”
 “Why didn’t you wear the hearing aid before? You
wouldn’t have to read your father’s lips if you did.”
“My father sees it as a sign of weakness. He doesn’t want
me to wear it in public. He prefers me to be silent and
invisible.”
I had to stifle a rude comment about his father. “Because
your speech is slightly impaired?”
Fiorentino gave a tense nod.
“He should be proud of you,” I said finally.
“Fiorentino wants to become a Made Man,” Geno said.
“Have you talked to my husband or father-in-law?”
Fiorentino shook his head. “My father would see it as a
betrayal. He doesn’t want me to become a Made Man
because I can’t do anything.”
I scanned the boy. He was tall, and he looked fit.
“I taught him how to fight. I still do. His father is okay
with that so he can protect himself.”
“I could talk to my husband. Is there anything you’re
particularly good at?”
“I’m good with computers. Hacking, coding, security
systems.”
“That sounds promising,” I said, then fixed him with a
stern look. “Are you sure you want to become a Made Man?
Right now, you’re free.”
Fiorentino’s expression turned fierce. “I want to be part of
the Outfit, nothing else.”
“I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Emma seemed filled with a new purpose when I came home
for dinner that night. Leo had told me how she’d spent the
day, so I knew she’d spent three hours at the community
center.
I went over to where she waited at the table for me and
kissed her briefly before I took my seat across from her. She
wore a flimsy top that revealed her slender shoulders and
throat, and the enticing swell of her breasts. I wondered if
she’d worn the same thing during the day.
Before I’d even said a word, she asked, “Do you know
Fiorentino?”
I shook my head, racking my brain for that name. He
definitely wasn’t one of our men. “He’s one of your
Captain’s sons. He’s hard of hearing.”
“He’s the Greco heir.”
“Not if you ask his father.”
 I sat back as our cook served us involtini and risotto, my
favorite combination. I didn’t have time to eat several
courses every night.
“The boy isn’t part of the Outfit.”
“But he wants to be.”
I could tell how agitated Emma was. Staying out of family
business, unless the situation was extremely dire, was one
of the top rules in our world.
“I know how you Made Men think about family business,”
Emma muttered, and I couldn’t help but smirk.
“It’s serious. He could be very valuable for the Outfit. He
is tall and strong. He can fight, Geno assured me.”
“Geno?” I asked quietly. Leo had mentioned that they’d
talked a lot. I doubted Emma was someone who would
cheat, but my trust issues were hard to overcome. The
person I’d trusted most, my own twin, had betrayed me to
save the man who’d kidnapped her and killed my friends.
That wasn’t something you just moved on from.
“One of your—”
“Enforcers, I know who he is.” He’d shown admirable
perseverance returning to his former position after his injury.
Emma pursed her lips, then continued. “He’s good with
computers. He could help the Outfit with hacking and all
that stuff.”
“Fiorentino, not Geno, I assume.”
“Yes,” she said, sounding exasperated. It was quite
entertaining. “Why won’t you induct him?”
“His father asked us not to induct him.”
I remembered the conversation now. My father and I had
talked to him without the son, and he’d assured us that his
deafness would be too much of a risk for us and him.
“That doesn’t usually stop you, right? A boy born to a
Made Man belongs to the Outfit. Or could I ask you not to
induct a future son of ours?”
I regarded Emma curiously. We hadn’t broached the
subject of kids yet, and I had no intention of discussing the
topic now, nor did Emma from her look of regret over
bringing it up. “Of course, our son will be part of the Outfit.”
“Then give Fiorentino the chance to be a Made Man, too.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her demanding voice, though it
was more endearing than insulting.
“Please, Samuel. He can hear with hearing aids.”
“Not as well as someone with regular hearing, I assume.”
“Don’t tell me that the older Made Men still have amazing
hearing after decades of gunshots and explosions.”
I chuckled. Emma had a point. “They don’t. What about
speech? I won’t convince our soldiers to learn sign
language.”
“He can talk without a problem.”
I nodded again. I had never met the boy. Maybe I’d
passed him at social gatherings, but I had never paid much
attention to him. I had simply taken his father’s word on the
matter that he couldn’t become a Made Man. Dad too had
never doubted it.
“If this was his father’s way to rob us of our rights, then I
might have to punish him.”
Emma shook her head, shocked. “Trust me, he thinks his
son is incapable. He sees him as a burden. That’s why he’s
trying to produce another heir.”
“I’ll talk to my father, and we’ll invite Fiorentino to talk
with us. I’ll have him evaluated that day. If he can prove
himself, he’ll get his chance to become part of the Outfit.”
“Thank you so much.”
“I know of a way you can thank me,” I murmured over
my glass of white wine.
Emma perked up, then flushed when she understood
what I meant.
The phone in my pocket, my second phone, vibrated. I
still hadn’t had the necessary willpower to cut Serafina off
completely. Our contact had become less frequent over the
years, but in the weeks prior to my wedding and ever since,
Serafina had tried to rekindle our bond. She would have
loved to be at the wedding.
But she had made her choice.
Feeling Emma’s eyes on me, I ignored the phone and
finished our dinner.

Samuel slept soundly beside me. He’d had only one glass of
wine during dinner, but I was sure he’d had more drinks
afterward while in his office. I had already been asleep when
he joined me. A nightmare had woken me, and a message
popping up on his phone that illuminated the room had
stopped me from falling back asleep right away. The room lit
up with another message. It was past midnight. I carefully
sat up, worried about waking Samuel. His two phones both
sat on the nightstand, but it was his second phone, the one
with F., that kept lighting up.
I couldn’t make out who sent the messages. I craned my
neck as another message popped up, this time with a photo
that didn’t show on the screen. My curiosity and suspicion
were almost unbearable. I should trust Samuel, but our
world rarely rewarded trust. I bit my lip. If I used my
wheelchair to get to Samuel’s side, he would definitely hear
it, even if he was slightly drunk. I scooted a bit closer to
him. Maybe I could reach over him? But if he caught me,
he’d be furious.
I lay back down and tried to fall back asleep, but two
more messages lit up the room. I sat back up and tried to
lean over Samuel to reach his phone. If I could touch the
screen, I’d see if the messages were from F. again. Another
message illuminated the room.
Samuel stirred, his brows snatching together, face
twisting with pain. “No.”
He shook his head, his body twisted. He was having a
nightmare. My gaze drifted between the phone and Samuel,
and I touched his shoulder gently. He didn’t react until I
shook him harder, then his eyes flew open a moment before
his phone turned dark again and blackened my vision.
Of course, another message lit up our room shortly after,
so Samuel’s disorientated expression came into view. He sat
up, so I had to lean back. He reached for his phone and
turned it over.
I swallowed. “You had a nightmare.”
“I have many nightmares,” Samuel murmured. He turned
on the light, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut. He
perched on the edge of the bed, his back to me. Scars
covered his skin. I too had a few of them, but not as many
as Samuel, and I couldn’t remember the incident that
caused them, so my nightmares always revolved around the
moment I woke up in the hospital, unable to speak.
“Do you want to talk about them?”
“No,” he clipped. He touched a scar on his side.
Hurt, I leaned back against the headboard. His gaze
darted to the phone he’d turned over so I couldn’t see the
incoming messages anymore.
“Go on, read your messages from F. I’m sure she has
something important to share.”
Samuel slanted a cautious look over his shoulder. “Did
you read them?”
 So it really was a she. I was angry with myself for
thinking that our promising sex life meant Samuel wouldn’t
also seek out other women. Why did I believe his talk about
fidelity?
“I did not,” I pressed out, close to tears.
Samuel regarded me closely, then shook his head. “I told
you I’m faithful, Emma. This isn’t what you think it is.”
I raised my eyebrows. “It’s not? You’re chatting with a
woman, and you keep it a secret from me. She’s even
sending you photos, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t G-
rated.”
Samuel reached for his phone and stared down at it. His
body was shielding the screen from my view. “Here,”
Samuel murmured and handed me the phone. I took it with
shaking fingers, and with a feeling of trepidation, I looked
down at the screen and the string of photos. I frowned, not
understanding what I saw. It showed two dark-haired
children in front of a huge birthday cake. I could only see
their backs. The girl wore a tutu, and the boy what looked
like boxing shorts. And suddenly, it clicked. I looked up at
my husband.
Samuel’s shoulders sagged, and he shook his head with a
look of resignation. “What I tell you now is betrayal. Not of
you, but the Outfit. If word gets out, I’d be punished
harshly.”
My eyes grew wide. “My loyalty lies with you, not the
Outfit.”
Samuel twisted his head toward me and smiled bitterly.
Then he sighed and nodded. “F is short for Fina. Serafina,
my twin.”
“Oh,” I breathed, my suspicions being confirmed. The
children in the photo must be the twins. Remo Falcone’s
twins. Now I knew why he thought it was betrayal. Why had
I never thought about F being his sister? I hadn’t known he
called her Fina, but I could have made the connection if not
for being so insecure because of gossip. It had seemed more
logical for him to betray me than the Outfit. I was relieved
but, at the same time, worried for him. Our Capo Dante was
his uncle, but betrayal was difficult to tolerate.
“I thought you ended all contact when she went back to
Remo Falcone.” I glanced at another photo showing Fina’s
smiling face as she hugged the girl in the tutu.
“I should have,” he murmured, pain and regret in his
voice. “But she’s my twin.”
I couldn’t even begin to understand what it meant to be
connected to someone from the womb, so I didn’t judge
him.
“The twins had their sixth birthday a couple of weeks
ago. Then there was our wedding. My sister tried to
establish closer contact again, probably feeling nostalgic.”
“You miss her,” I said softly, touching his back.
“I miss the sister I had before Remo twisted her into
someone else. She isn’t that person anymore, and I’m not
the same person I was before she was kidnapped.”
Again he touched the scar on his side.
“Does it hurt?”
He dropped his hand. “No. I got it when Serafina was
kidnapped. The memories of what followed hurt more.”
It was the most personal thing Samuel had ever shared
with me, and it made me feel even worse for accusing him
of cheating. “I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating. I just
thought…”
I trailed off, not sure how to say it.
“You just thought?” he asked, his gaze boring into my
eyes.
“You are a man, a man who had many lovers before our
marriage.”
“I did,” Samuel admitted, turning around to me. “And I
have no need for further conquests. What you said sounds
like something your mother put in your head.”
“She probably did,” I muttered. I sighed, then narrowed
my eyes. “So you say because you had so many girls before
marriage, you can be faithful now. By that logic, I’d have to
go look for a lover, considering my lack of experience.”
Samuel climbed back on the bed and cupped my face
with a dominant smile. “This world doesn’t give girls the
same freedoms as we get, and while this is certainly not a
fair concept, I like that you are mine alone and will always
only be mine.”
He kissed me. Soon, his kiss became more demanding,
and we ended up having sex again. Afterward, I snuggled up
to him with my cheek pressed to his strong chest. Samuel
had no trouble allowing this kind of closeness. His fingers
were even stroking my arm gently, making me feel cared for
and very drowsy.
“I thought about your wish to dance.”
I held my breath.
“I think it’s a good idea. As long as Leo’s observations
don’t give me reason to change my mind, I’ll allow you to
take dance lessons.”
I pushed up and kissed his lips with a big smile. “Thank
you!”
His eyes scanned my beaming face, and he brushed a
strand away from my face. I kissed him lightly, then put my
head back down and cuddled even closer to him. He
wrapped an arm around me. “I feel safe in your arms,” I
admitted in a small voice.
Samuel released a deep breath. “I’ll do everything in my
power to keep you safe.”
The following day, I helped with another meeting at the
community center. The dance studio couldn’t offer me a
tryout session so quickly after I’d canceled my last, so I had
to wait two more days.
During the meeting, I found out Samuel had indeed
spoken with Fiorentino’s father and made it clear they
wanted his son to prove his worth.
Fiorentino beamed as he told me. “Tomorrow, Samuel
and his father will oversee the first training of new initiates.”
“What happens there?” I asked curiously.
Fiorentino seemed unsure of what to share, and maybe
he didn’t know everything, considering he wasn’t yet
inducted.
“There is fight training, knife fights, shootings, some
questioning.”
I frowned. “Questioning?”
 “Some light torture. Nothing an initiate that’s been
brought up in our world can’t withstand.”
Fiorentino nodded. Was he prepared, considering his
father had never meant for him to become a Made Man?
Geno sank down beside me on a chair, propping his
elbows up on his legs. “His father had to harden him. Even if
he didn’t become a Made Man, he needs to be able to keep
the secrets he witnesses to protect his family.”
“Will you be doing the questioning?”
He nodded. “But not alone. Pietro and Samuel will
definitely be involved.”
I swallowed, thinking of my husband and father-in-law
torturing teenage boys.
“It’s hard to imagine,” I admitted.
Geno let out a dry laugh, his eyes holding mine with
mirth in them. “Not for me. I only know the business side of
your husband, so I can tell you he is very capable with a
knife.”
How did that go hand in hand with Samuel’s guilt over his
friend Domenico’s brutal death? It didn’t make sense, but
many rules in the mafia didn’t.
Samuel strode in. Geno looked toward him, and his smile
fell. He cleared his throat with a tense smile. “I should really
go.”
“Oh sure,” I said, but he was already walking away.
Samuel stopped by my side, then bent down and kissed
me firmly, his hand cupping my head possessively. I frowned
at him. “Why did Geno run off so quickly when he saw you?”
Samuel’s expression hardened. “Because the look I sent
him told him I didn’t like him getting cozy with you.”
“Samuel,” I whispered in embarrassment. “Why would
you scare away the man who helps the same cause I want
to help? This is important to me. What if he decides it’s
better not to have me involved because I mean trouble?”
“He can’t decide that. And because,” Samuel drawled, his
eyes boring into mine, “he was checking out my wife.”
 A laugh bubbled out of me. “You’re serious?”
“I’m dead serious.”
I covered my eyes and giggled. Then I peered up at
Samuel. He didn’t crack a smile. He still looked mad. Most
men gave us a wide berth, which made me feel bad for the
intrusion. “He wasn’t flirting with me. Why would he? He
knows I’m yours.”
Samuel crouched down, holding the handle, bringing our
faces close together. “Because you’re gorgeous and kind.
You’re the woman right out of his wet dreams, I bet. And
sometimes men forget themselves if they are surrounded by
someone like that.”
I rolled my eyes.
Samuel’s expression hardened even more. “You should
trust my judgment and experience on this. I’ve been around
enough guys in heat.”
“Well, first of all, I have zero interest in other men.
Second, he knows I’m married to his boss. He won’t do
anything even if he’s attracted to me because he knows
you’d punish him harshly.”
I was still convinced Samuel was simply over-the-top
jealous and distrusting, which could be explained by his
sister’s betrayal and his nature in general.
Samuel chuckled darkly. “Indeed.” Priest Agnello headed
our way so my husband finally straightened and lost the
possessive expression. “Samuel, it’s so good to see you. I
miss seeing you and your father in church.”
Samuel gave him a tight smile. “I have spent too much
time in church burying good soldiers and friends. My mother
prays for my father and me. That’s the extent of my
spirituality, I fear.”
Priest Agnellus sighed, but I could tell he knew better
than to push. He looked down at me. “What about you?”
“I attended church in Indianapolis.” My mother insisted
we do. “I’ll join you this Sunday.”
 Samuel shook his head, and I was about to grow angry
again. He couldn’t possibly have anything against me being
in church? “I’m afraid you, Renato, and I will be flying to
Indianapolis over the weekend to finalize a bond between
him and your friend Giorgia.”
My eyes grew wide with surprise and happiness. I missed
Indianapolis, not so much my mother, to my
embarrassment, but definitely Giorgia and Danilo.
“Renato has found a wife?” Priest Agnello inquired,
astonished. I really hoped Giorgia knew what she was
getting into.
“It’s not final yet, but once I’ve talked to the mother and
brother of the future bride, it will be,” Samuel said with a
hard smile. But Indianapolis wasn’t his territory, and Danilo
would make that very clear. I kept my thoughts to myself.
Samuel talked to most of the men who were still around
after that before we set out home.
I waited until we were in Samuel’s car before I voiced my
thoughts. “Giorgia falls under Danilo’s jurisdiction, so her
mother and brother will listen to him, not you.”
Samuel’s mouth tightened. “That is true. But Danilo
should have an interest in sending your best friend to
Minneapolis.”
He had a point. Danilo wouldn’t care if Renato was good
husband material for Giorgia.
“When are we leaving?”
“Friday afternoon.”
I was relieved. That meant I could go to dance classes on
Thursday.
“Geno told me that tomorrow you’re testing the initiates
before they’re allowed to take the vow.”
Samuel’s brows snatched together, but his vigilant eyes
stayed on the street. “He should be careful what he says.”
“I’m your wife, so I’m allowed to know these things,
right?”
 Samuel parked the car in our garage, then turned to me.
“If I keep information from you, it’s not because I think
you’re not trustworthy. It’s because I know you wouldn’t be
able to protect a secret under duress.”
I pursed my lips. “I know pain.”
Samuel looked at the scar peeking out on my neck. It was
one of many, though most of them had faded to fine white
lines. Mom had insisted I have the best laser therapy to
reduce them. Samuel reached out for it and lightly traced it.
“That’s true. You have more experience with pain than most
girls in our world. But submitting to torture is different.
There’s a psychological aspect to it that’s almost as bad as
the pain itself, the knowledge of being completely and
utterly at someone’s mercy.”
I shuddered. Samuel nodded and left the car, then
opened my door and lifted me out of the seat.
When we were at dinner that night, I finally broached the
subject of tomorrow again. “Can I watch the initiation
process tomorrow?”
I was really curious. I couldn’t deny it.
Samuel gave a tight smile. “This is part of Outfit
business, only Made Men and future initiates are allowed to
be part of it.”
“I understand.”
Samuel put down his wineglass. Something on his face
shifted to a heated look that tightened my belly with desire.
“Since seeing Geno smile at you inappropriately, I have
been thinking about nothing but staking my claim on you
again.”
I blinked, then quickly glanced around to make sure our
cook wasn’t around to clear up the dishes. I would have died
of mortification.
Samuel chuckled and shoved to his feet, then came
around the table toward me. I dabbed my mouth with a
napkin, then leaned back in the chair with a teasing smile.
“And how are you going to do that?”
 Samuel picked me up and kissed me fiercely.

Emma was still asleep when I got up. For a moment, I looked
down at her sleeping form. Her brown curls were all over the
place, and her hand rested on my pillow, our wedding ring
prominent on her slender finger.
Being married to Emma was easier than I thought. She
definitely had a stubborn streak, but she wasn’t someone
who played games or who tried to rile me up on purpose.
She had her own interests and didn’t just wait all day for me
to come home.
I turned and got dressed in my usual gray suit and white
dress shirt. I’d change into gym clothes at the training
center.
I picked up Father at home. He too was dressed in a suit
but a dark one.
“Are you going to get your hands dirty today, or are you
too old for that?” I taunted him.
He sent me a dark look. Dad was fifty-seven, but he
didn’t look it. He worked out with me five times a week, and
had lost the hint of a belly I’d teased him with for months.
“Considering you are going to become Underboss soon and
will be the one these new soldiers will answer to, you should
be the one to question and test them. But I certainly won’t
stand back and watch.”
“Do you really think you can retire soon?”
Dad looked at me with searching eyes. “If you don’t think
you’re ready yet—”
“I am,” I said firmly. My demons would still haunt me in
five, ten, or twenty years. “Or does Dante disagree?”
“You have been very efficient and proven your worth over
the past few years. He won’t hold on to an incident from the
past.”
“It wasn’t an incident. It was a betrayal of the Outfit that
cost three of Dante’s soldiers their lives.”
Dad nodded. “Dante has his own skeletons in the closet.”
Dad had said it before but never explained it. Feeling my
curious gaze on him, he leaned back with a deep sigh. “I
might not always be there. As long as Dante is your Capo,
you should have something in your hand.”
I parked in front of the square building that held our
training center, then waited for Dad to continue. I was
surprised by his words. Dante and Dad liked each other, and
we had a good family bond, but of course, in our world, that
didn’t mean you didn’t have to take certain precautions.
“Rocco Scuderi Senior, the traitorous bastard, had a
brother. Jacopo.”
I had never heard of him. He had died long before I was
initiated, I assumed.
“Dante killed him even though he was set to become his
Consigliere.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Why? Did he try to betray the
Outfit?”
“Oh no. He was loyal to the bone and as sadistic as they
come.”
I gave my father a look. We too held a certain sadistic
streak, or we couldn’t do what our work required. Dad shook
his head. “You don’t understand. He was sadistic to women
too, and your mother was promised to him.”
“Oh,” I said, suddenly understanding. “And Dante saved
her from that fate.”
“He did, and he convinced his old man to give your
mother to me.”
“But that means Dante’s betrayal saved Mom and helped
you too.”
“It did. I’ll forever be grateful for what he did. But you are
my child, and I’ll always make sure you are protected, so I
think it might be wise for you to learn more about Dante’s
past.”
“Thanks, Dad. But I have no intention of bringing myself
into another situation that requires blackmailing Dante.” I
wasn’t even sure if that was still something I could
blackmail him with. Dante’s power was solidified, and the
Scuderis didn’t hold any power at the moment.
We got out of the car and entered the vast building
through the steel door. Inside the hall was split into different
areas, one for martial arts and box fights, one for knife
technique, and one for shooting, though that one was
separated by noise barriers. Then there was an area off to
the side where recruits would be submitted to light torture
to test their endurance. This was where a recruit failed on
occasion.
Most boys gathering in the hall for their evaluation today
were fifteen or sixteen, but I caught sight of a few who
looked a bit younger. Sometimes poor families of Italian
descent hoped to earn money that way, but they didn’t
know what price they had to pay first for money to start
rolling in.
A hush fell over the boys and our soldiers as my father
and I strode through the hall toward the back of the hall,
where lockers and benches were situated. There wasn’t a
privacy screen, and the three boys about to change out of
their day clothes looked intimidated as my father and I
stopped beside them.
I gave them a nod. Then I shrugged out of my jacket and
unbuttoned my shirt. Of course, I could feel many of the
boys throw me curious glances as I undressed down to my
briefs. My body was littered with scars, and I made sure I
was ripped. Dad did the same routinely. He too carried the
scars of a man his position accumulated over the years.
When I was dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, I headed
toward Geno and two more soldiers who would help with the
testing today.
I shook their hands, then motioned to the knife fight area.
“I’ll start with the knife skills.”
“I’ll focus on shooting and questioning,” Father said.
“Will you join the questioning later too?” Geno asked me.
“Of course. But first, I’d like to get my heart rate up with
some fighting.”
Geno chuckled. “Torture doesn’t have that effect on you
after a while.”
“No,” I agreed.
I moved toward the mats where the knife fights were
about to take place. There were also a few puppets to see
the throwing technique of the boys. But I would get them
tired before they could prove their aim. It was harder to hit a
target if you were out of breath.
I noticed a tall boy whose face reminded me of Greco
Senior, especially the square jaw. Unlike the other boys, he
was by himself. He noticed my gaze and straightened. I
motioned for him to come closer.
With a swallow I could see from afar, he pushed away
from the wall and strode toward me under the scrutiny of his
peers. “Fiorentino?” I asked louder than I usually would. I
wasn’t sure how well he could hear me despite his hearing
aids, and it was loud in the hall.
He nodded and gave me a hesitant smile.
“Why are you here?”
 “To become a part of the Outfit,” he said without missing
a beat, straightening even more. His speech was slightly off,
but I had no trouble understanding him.
“I’ll test your fight skills first.”
He reached for his hearing aid.
“What are you doing?”
He flushed. “I want to take it off for the fight.”
I shook my head. “If this was a real fight, you’d need your
hearing as an additional help against the enemy.”
“But it could fall off during fighting.”
“Of course, but until then, let’s use it to your advantage.”
The moment I began sparring with Fiorentino, it became
apparent how determined and well-trained he was. There
was still room for improvement, but he was better than
many of the other boys here today.
I gave him a pleased nod as I pulled him to his feet after
I’d thrown him to the ground. “Good work. Now show me
your knife skills.”
His hands shook as he took the knife from me, but after a
few deep breaths, they steadied, and he hit the target with
his first throw.
When I was done with him, I motioned for the next recruit
to step forward. Fiorentino moved on to the shooting area.
After an hour of testing fight skills, I moved on to the
questioning. It was a crucial skill to protect secrets.
It was the turn of one of the boys who had shown lacking
fight and knife skills. Despite this, he acted with utter
confidence, even arrogance. He was the son of a Captain
and probably considered himself above failure.
I nodded toward the chair in the center of this area, and
he sank down on it with spread legs. “You know the rules. If
you say stop, it equals breaking your vow of silence.”
“Got it.”
It didn’t take much for him to scream stop at the top of
his lungs. My knife had left the shallowest cut in his arm,
nothing that should get any kind of sound out of him. I tried
a few other things, but it became apparent very quickly that
he was incapable of tolerating a decent level of pain. He
was useless for our purposes. If he had shown promise
during fight training or knife skills, I might have considered
allowing him to move on, but as it was, he needed a few
more months to harden up. “Right now, you’re not ready to
continue the initiation process. Train with your father and
come back in six months.”
He staggered to his feet, his face turning red as he
glanced around at the whispering recruits. “I’m already
sixteen! I need to become a recruit.”
“Not with the skills or lack thereof that you displayed
today,” I said simply. I didn’t like the challenging gleam in
his eyes one bit.
He pointed at Fiorentino, who waited for his turn. “It’s not
fair that someone like him becomes part of the Outfit, and I
don’t.”
I grabbed him by the collar and glared down at him.
“Then get a grip and stop bawling like a fucking pussy
because I cut you.”
“It’s a stupid test.”
I shoved him to the ground. “If you can’t protect the
Outfit’s secrets with your fucking blood, your fucking life,
then you are not worthy of becoming a Made Man,
understood? You can’t even begin to understand how little
pain you’ve experienced yet. If you want to know real pain,
then read the autopsy reports of the soldiers sent back from
Camorra torture. And now get out of my sight, or I’ll give
you a real taste of what torture looks like.”
The boy’s eyes grew wide. “My father will disinherit me if
I don’t become a part of the Outfit!”
His father was Captain. His son had no chance of
becoming one unless he improved drastically over the next
months. Maybe one day, he could become a lowly soldier
without any secrets to protect. “Then your father should
have made you stronger.”
 I looked down at his spiteful expression and hoped he’d
keep whatever he wanted to say to himself. He scrambled to
his feet. I turned to the next recruit. The boy spat in front of
my feet. “At least I’m not fucking a cripple.”
“Oh shit,” Geno muttered.
I barely registered the unified intake of breaths as I
lunged at the asshole. He had no chance against me as I
slammed him to the ground. “Hold his tongue for me,” I
snarled, overcome with utter rage. How dare he use that
word?
Geno got down beside me, and with the help of another
soldier, they extracted the boy’s tongue so I could cut off
the tip. His eyes shot open as blood spurted out, and he
screamed. He was lucky I didn’t rip his entire tongue out.
This way, he could still speak.
I rose to my feet and stepped back, breathing harshly,
then held out my knife toward one of the boys. “Clean it.”
He took it and dashed away toward the sinks. “Remove this
worthless piece of shit from here and tell everyone that I
won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting my wife or using that
fucking slur.”
Geno and the other soldier yanked the boy to his feet and
dragged him away. Had he thought not being a Made Man
and only sixteen would protect him? I had tortured people
younger than him. This world didn’t protect you only
because you weren’t an adult by outside standards. I would
never allow anyone to talk about Emma that way.
“Mr. Mione, your knife,” a familiar, slightly slurred voice
said. I glared at Fiorentino, still riled up, but he held my gaze
until I took the knife. “Do you want to go next?”
Fiorentino swallowed but nodded. I motioned for him to
move toward the chair so Geno, who was back, could
shackle him to it. He had to step over the blood puddle on
the floor that nobody had cleaned yet.
Dad stepped up to me, his expression unreadable. “Do
you want me to take over?”
 “Worried I’ll hurt them too much?”
Dad regarded me closely. He didn’t know I still had
nightmares about Domenico. He stepped back. “I’ll return to
the shooting range.”
I turned to Fiorentino. Unlike the asshole before him, he
withstood the torture I subjected him to. After two more
recruits, I excused myself and went to the changing area. I
texted Renato and asked him if he had time to go out for
drinks tonight. I fucking needed to get shit-faced. Then I told
Emma I had too much work to do to be home for dinner.
Dad joined me.
“If Emma asks Mom or you, I’m working late tonight.”
Dad’s expression tightened with disapproval. “But you’re
not.”
“I’m heading out with Renato. I need to take my mind off
things.”
“In one of Renato’s establishments?”
“I’m faithful to Emma, Dad, no need for that disappointed
voice. I’m not a boy.”
“Are things going well?” Dad asked quietly.
I looked around with a frown. “They are.” Dad nodded,
then returned to the recruits. I took a small flask from my
gym bag, briefly hesitated when I remembered Emma’s
concern regarding my drinking habits, then took a few gulps
from the vodka before I screwed the top back on and
returned to the knife fight area. Two recruits broke down
under torture today, especially the first younger one… what
a day. I knew my night would be filled with familiar horrors if
I didn’t manage to drink myself into a stupor.
Something crashed downstairs, ripping me from sleep. I sat
up and turned on the lights. Another crash sounded. Samuel
wasn’t home yet. What was going on?
Fear filled me. I knew I was never alone. If Samuel wasn’t
home, there was at least one bodyguard on the premises,
but I still wished he were here.
An even louder crash, followed by a curse. It wasn’t
Samuel’s voice that had cursed. Anxiety filled my belly. A
code was required to enter our home, so it had to be
someone Samuel trusted who had entered. He’d never give
the code to someone he didn’t trust, even if he was drunk.
Plus, a guard team surveyed the entrance area and
backyard. I hoisted myself in my wheelchair and moved to
the elevator. When I arrived down in the foyer, I found
Renato supporting Samuel, who seemed incapable of
standing on his legs. His gaze was unfocused. They must
have stumbled against the big decorative vases beside the
entrance door, broken both, plus whipped the glass
decoration from Murano off the sideboard. The mirror above
it had a crack in it too. As I wheeled closer, a cloud of
alcohol hit me.
“What happened?”
Renato shrugged, his gaze sliding over me. I realized I
was only in my nightgown and crossed my arms over my
chest. He finally looked away and focused on my face.
“Nothing. He had a bit too much to drink. Nothing out of the
ordinary.”
I gave him a disbelieving look, motioning at how Samuel
hung in his grasp. “This isn’t normal. This isn’t just a bit too
much to drink. He’s completely out of it.”
Renato took a step toward the staircase, obviously
struggling with Samuel’s weight. “We had some fun. He can
usually handle his liquor better.”
Because he had lots of practice. I pressed my lips
together, trying to bottle up my anger. “As a friend, you
shouldn’t let this happen.”
Renato scoffed, his eyes hard and mocking as they
settled on me. “He’s an adult, a grown man. I won’t tell him
what to do, and neither should you.”
My mouth opened. “Let’s agree to disagree.” Surprise
crossed his face, then he shook his head. Luckily for us, he
kept whatever crossed his mind to himself.
“Help me take Samuel upstairs,” I said simply and
wheeled back into the elevator. Renato followed me without
a word, still supporting Samuel who seemed to have passed
out completely by now. “I’ll go up first. All three of us won’t
fit inside.”
Once I was upstairs, I waited for the elevator to come up
again.
“I didn’t think you’d be like this,” Renato said as he
staggered out of the elevator.
“Like what?” I asked as I led him to our bedroom and
watched as he dropped Samuel unceremoniously onto the
bed. Samuel didn’t stir, and I was beginning to worry.
He straightened and watched as I moved toward the bed.
“So opinionated and outspoken.”
I felt Samuel’s throat for a pulse and relaxed when I
found it. “Because I’m a woman or a woman in a
wheelchair?”
Renato gave me a caught smile, obviously realizing he’d
overstepped his boundaries. Usually, I wasn’t this easily
affronted. I’d heard too much to take other people’s
opinions of me to heart, but my worry for Samuel was
making me a tad touchy.
“I’m worried about Samuel,” I said simply. I didn’t want to
get into an argument with one of Samuel’s best friends.
Maybe his only friend, as I’d never seen him with anyone
else.
Renato waved me off. “He’ll be fine. Just pop a couple of
painkillers into his mouth and give him a strong coffee in the
morning.”
“Can you help me get him out of his clothes?”
“Just let him sleep in them. That’s what I do.”
I gritted my teeth, growing annoyed at how blasé he was.
Was it a man thing? A Made Man thing? Or was I really
overreacting? I didn’t think so.
“All right. Thank you for getting him home. I’ll handle it
from here.”
I pulled Samuel’s shoes off.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“I’ve undressed him before, don’t worry,” I said, not even
blushing. I was so frustrated with the situation. I felt
helpless in a way I’d never experienced, not even when my
body failed me after the accident, and I didn’t know how to
come to terms with it.
Renato nodded, then he turned around, and I heard him
walk down the stairs. I took a deep breath. After his shoes
were off, I got rid of his socks, then leaned over him to
unbuckle his belt. Getting him out of his pants was far more
difficult than anticipated. Samuel was tall and much heavier
than me. I hoisted myself onto the bed, hoping for a better
angle. After plenty of tugging, his pants still hung around his
hips. I blew out my breath and decided to deal with his shirt
for now. But without his help, I couldn’t pull it off either.
Tears of anger and frustration gathered in my eyes. I went to
the bathroom in my wheelchair, pulled scissors from a
drawer under the sink, and returned to Samuel. I began
cutting away his shirt and the tank he wore beneath, then
proceeded to destroy his pants in the same way. I hoped
these weren’t his favorite clothes, but maybe that would
teach him a lesson not to drink so much. Though I doubted
Samuel was at a point where a lesson like that would stop
him from drinking. We hadn’t been married for very long,
but I wasn’t blind nor stupid. Samuel had a problem. I just
wasn’t quite sure yet how serious it was.
I tugged the rags away and tossed them to the floor.
Samuel didn’t stir. I left him in his boxers. Because he lay on
the covers, I couldn’t even tuck him in. It wasn’t very cold in
the bedroom, so I simply left him as he was and awkwardly
crawled under the covers, which Samuel weighted down.
I extinguished the lights, but I was too agitated to fall
asleep. My thoughts revolved around what I’d witnessed in
the past two weeks. Samuel drank too much. He drank
every day, especially when he was in a bad mood or
stressed. I wasn’t sure if I was overreacting. When could you
call someone an alcoholic? Was there a universal rule? I
couldn’t ask anyone I knew. At least not from our families.
But maybe I could ask Priest Agnello. Perhaps he had
experience with Made Men who struggled with addiction,
though I doubted many of them made their problem public
since it could cost them their standing and, depending on
their addiction, even their lives. I had to make sure Priest
Agnello didn’t think Samuel was the reason for my interest.
Considering Samuel’s controlled and poised outward
appearance, I doubted many people would suspect him.
Still, I couldn’t risk anything. Too much was at stake.
Or was I overreacting? I had only gotten a small glimpse
into Samuel’s life. Maybe the past two weeks had been an
exemption. Perhaps he didn’t usually drink as much. Stress
could do a lot to people. His life had changed drastically
with our marriage as well.
Samuel snored, which only added to my anger. I had half
a mind to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms, but I worried
he’d stop breathing. What if he was close to alcohol
poisoning? I covered my ears with another pillow and tried
to fall asleep.
The mattress shifted, and Samuel groaned. Then
something heavy landed on the floor. I sat up and turned on
the lights. Squinting against the sudden brightness, I
realized Samuel was no longer in bed beside me. I scooted
over to the other side and looked down. Samuel lay on his
side on the floor, still asleep.
There was no way I could get him back into bed, and for
what? He’d probably roll out of bed again and possibly hit
his head on the nightstand. He could sleep on the floor
tonight.
I turned off the lights, but then worried that Samuel
would throw up and I wouldn’t notice until it was too late. I
didn’t want him to choke on his own vomit. With a sigh, I
turned the lights on and lowered myself to the floor beside
Samuel. I leaned against the bed with a cushion at my back
and covered myself with the blanket, then extinguished the
lights.
With my hand on Samuel’s shoulder, I closed my eyes,
hoping to catch at least a few hours of sleep. My dance
session would be a mess otherwise.
I woke up on the floor. Even before I opened my eyes, I
knew that was where I was. My stiff neck and back definitely
spoke a clear language. But the worst pain was in my head.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this shitty after a
night of drinking.
I peeled my eyes open and stared at Emma. She sat on
the floor beside me, propped up against the bed, her head
tilted awkwardly to the side. One of her hands rested on my
arm. I rolled to my back, and her hand slid to my chest.
Fuck. What happened?
Renato must have brought me home last night. The idiot
should have taken me to his place instead. Emma didn’t
need to see me like this.
I sat up despite the lightning strike of agony that hit my
brain. I touched my temple and blew out a breath. After
another moment to gather myself, I pushed to my feet. That
was when I realized that my shirt hung in tatters from my
body, and my pants looked as if an angry kitten had ripped
into them. I found the scissors on the nightstand. I shook my
head in amusement, then regretted it. Emma must have cut
me out of my clothes. The thought sobered me immediately.
Fuck. I hadn’t noticed someone cutting clothes off my body
with scissors. If someone had used the moment to attack…
Dammit.
I bent down despite the way my vision swam and lifted
Emma into my arms. She stirred as I gently laid her down in
bed, and her eyes fluttered open. “Shhh. It’s just me.
Sleep.”
But her eyes opened all the way, and the look in them
was like a douse of cold water. I moved to kiss her, but her
hand came up and covered my mouth. “You smell like a
liquor store.”
I straightened. “I’ll take a shower and brush my teeth.”
Emma tried to sit up in bed, then winced. “Ouch.
Sleeping on the floor is a bad idea. Everything hurts.”
“Why did you?”
She gave me a look as if that should be obvious. “I was
worried you’d throw up and choke on your vomit. I wanted
to keep an eye on you.”
“I was fine.”
“You were not. You didn’t notice anything. You and Renato
broke all our vases and decorations downstairs.”
“You can buy new stuff. You didn’t even pick the
decorations, so this is your chance to get something that fits
your taste.”
Emma gave me an indignant look. “Samuel, this is
serious.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t make a big deal of it. I’m a
grown man, and sometimes men get drunk, especially after
a shitty day.”
I turned around and headed into the bathroom. I wasn’t
in the mood for a discussion like that, especially not when
my head felt like it was about to explode. Though, I’d
probably never want to have this discussion.
I shoved down my briefs and what remained of my shirt,
then stepped into the shower and turned it warmer than I
usually showered because the prospect of cold water hitting
my head wasn’t enticing at all.
 Leaning against the tiles, I closed my eyes. After a couple
of minutes, I could hear Emma enter the bathroom, then the
sound of water in the sink followed by the electric
toothbrush and the occasional squeal of her wheels.
I slowly opened my eyes and turned the water to as cold
as I could bear, all the while watching Emma. She was
focused on brushing her teeth, but I could tell she wasn’t
happy with the situation. I stepped out of the shower,
rubbed my hair dry, then wrapped a towel around my waist
before I joined Emma at the sink. She looked up at me, her
eyes briefly lingering on the bruises on my upper body. A
few of the recruits had managed to land hits but nothing
major.
“Why was yesterday shitty?” she whispered. Her brown
eyes searched mine with concern and tenderness.
I sighed. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to share with
Emma. Finally, I said, “Two recruits had trouble with the
questioning. For one of them, it was his second attempt to
become an initiate, and he failed again because of his
inability to withstand pain.”
Emma grimaced. “How old was he? I’m sure he’ll grow
used to pain over time.”
“Sixteen. Old enough to bear the pain I caused, trust me.
He’s too weak.”
“And that made you mad?”
“No, what made me mad was his reaction to me telling
him he wouldn’t become an initiate. I had to make a bloody
statement.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You killed him?”
“No, though it would have been a suitable reaction. I cut
off the tip of his tongue.”
Emma paled. “But he’s only sixteen.”
“I have to lead my men and these recruits. If someone
disrespects me, they’ll be met with my wrath. Now he
knows and so does everyone else. Sometimes they all need
reminding.”
 She didn’t need to know how the asshole had
disrespected her.
Emma swallowed thickly. I could see her mind working,
wondering why that had made me get drunk.
“Stop worrying,” I told her, squeezing her shoulder.
Emma nodded, but I could tell she was still not
convinced. She needed to learn when to give up.

On my way to a casino, Dante’s number flashed on my

screen. I gritted my teeth. I didn’t think it was a coincidence
that he called a day after I’d punished the boy. Had his
father complained?
I answered the call. “Dante, to what do I owe your call?”
“Good morning, Samuel. I just wanted to inquire about
the state of things in Minneapolis.”
“Let me guess, you got a call from an angry Captain
yesterday because I punished his useless son?”
Dante chuckled. “No, not quite. His mother called
Valentina, crying.”
I rolled my eyes. “So he ran to his mommy so she could
protect him?”
“I don’t know the details, and I won’t call the father to
find out. I assume you had a reason to punish an initiate like
that.”
“He won’t become an initiate. He failed under torture
twice, and he insulted me and my wife. He’s lucky I didn’t
cut off more than the tip of his tongue.”
“Indeed,” Dante said. “He should be able to withstand
torture at sixteen.”
 “He’s weak. He won’t ever amount to anything. I could
withstand more torture at twelve than that pussy.”
Again, a dry chuckle. “You are one of my best men, like
your father.”
I waited for him to say more as I parked in front of the
casino. This one was underground, hidden in a nondescript
warehouse.
“But that decision falls under your jurisdiction and is not
why I’m calling.”
“No?”
“I want Leonas to see how things are done in different
cities. I’m sending him to Minneapolis for the entirety of
August so you and Pietro can show him your ways to do
business.”
Surprise filled me. My cousin Leonas was fourteen. Of
course, he had already been inducted at thirteen. He would
become Capo and couldn’t wait until he was fifteen or
sixteen like some others. “We’ll show him the ropes and
keep him safe.”
“He’s quite adept at protecting himself, but he’s also
very cocky and boisterous.”
I knew of Leonas’s troublemaking ways but not
everything, I was sure. Dante would make sure the worst
didn’t become public. “We’ll keep him in check. Will he live
with my parents?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure Mom is ecstatic to have someone to coddle
again.”
“She lost you and Sofia both in the same month.”
“Maybe Leonas will make her glad the nest is empty. No
offense.”
“No offense taken. I’m very aware of Leonas’s nature.”
“The question is by what means do you want us to keep
his nature in check,” I asked carefully.
Dante cleared his throat. “There are certain limits I’m not
willing to cross due to Valentina.”
 Of course. Dad too had been limited by how he could
punish me by Mom’s love for me. “But those limits aren’t
ours?”
“They aren’t. But obviously, he mustn’t be harmed in a
way that won’t heal.”
“Of course not. I like the little shit a lot, so that will
prevent that from happening anyway. The same goes for
Dad.”
Dante chuckled again. “Little shit? You realize he’ll be
your Capo one day.”
“And by the time he’s Capo, I’m certain he’s a man I’ll
respect too much to remember I ever said those words.”
“He will be.”
We chatted more about the details of Leonas’s stay
before I hung up. Having Leonas in Minneapolis added
another problem to my shoulders, but I couldn’t refuse
Dante.
In my registration for a tryout session, I hadn’t mentioned
my last name out of worry that they would give a flimsy
excuse not to have me there. The name Mione was
notorious in Minneapolis after all.
So when I entered the reception area of the dance studio
with Leo and another bodyguard, the eyes of the tall woman
behind the counter grew wide, and so did the eyes of the
handful of gathered customers who also waited for the
ballet lesson.
I flushed. In many eyes, recognition flashed up. Samuel’s
and my wedding had filled the tabloids for several days. I
moved toward the lowered counter and smiled. “I’m here for
the tryout session.”
“Emma… Mione, I assume?” the woman said in a sharp
accent.
I nodded, trying to ignore the whispers that arose behind
me. Leo stepped up beside me while my other bodyguard
walked around, checking every room.
“Not the female changing rooms!” the woman shouted
angrily.
Leo leaned forward on the counter, baring his teeth.
“Then I suggest you tell whoever’s in there to leave so he
can check it’s safe.”
The woman stiffened, but she did as he said. I could feel
more heat travel up into my face. Maybe that was why it
was better not to do courses in the outside world.
I looked around uncomfortably. A young man gave me a
smile. His gait was a little off as if his knees were stiff. “I’m
Albert. Natalya is a great teacher.”
I smiled in turn.
Leo pointed at the ring on my finger. “You know what that
means in our world?”
Albert looked confused. “Don’t we live in the same
world?”
Leo and the other man laughed darkly. “No, not even
close.”
Albert flushed. “I’m into men, not women, so you should
have pointed at your ring, not hers.”
I bit my lip. Albert was treading perilous waters.
Leo shook his head and exchanged a look with the other
bodyguard. I was flustered by the time I was finally allowed
to enter the changing rooms to put on my leotard and skirt.
When I caught my reflection in the mirror, emotions bubbled
up. I hadn’t felt the heavy dose of nostalgia in a long time. I
squared my shoulders and headed back outside. Leo was
right in front of the door while my other bodyguard stood
beside the front door.
The other customers had left for the classroom, and I
followed the sound of their voices into the bright room. I
allowed my gaze to take in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors and
barre where most of the dancers stretched. The last time I’d
been in a room like this had been before my accident, but I
felt a strange sense of belonging and homecoming I hadn’t
expected as if this was the final missing puzzle piece.
Natalya came my way with a very small, tense smile.
“You mentioned in your email that you have years of ballet
practice.”
“A long time ago.”
She nodded. “How about you stretch too so you are
warmed up for class? We’ll see how much of your past
lessons you remember. Muscle memory is a wonderful
thing.”
I gave her a smile, then said in a very low voice, “I’m
sorry for the inconvenience with my bodyguards.”
Her gaze flitted to Leo, who leaned beside the door and
regarded everything with utter boredom. “Maybe your
bodyguards will eventually realize we don’t pose a danger.”
My bodyguards weren’t the people I had to convince.
Samuel would be an incredibly hard nut to crack, I feared.
Fifteen minutes into the dance training, I was already out
of breath, and muscles I hadn’t used in a while ached from
exertion. Even my arms, which I used frequently to lift out of
my wheelchair, obviously needed time to get used to the
intensity of training. Despite feeling out of shape, I felt a
sense of right and of reuniting with a part of myself that had
laid dormant. As I let my wheelchair glide to the music, I
realized that I’d truly missed dancing and that it was still a
part of me that I wanted to explore in this altered fashion.
That night, when Samuel and I packed our bags for our
trip to Indianapolis the next day, I broached the subject.
“Everyone’s very friendly at the dance studio, and I would
love to continue.”
Samuel looked up from his drawer with ties. “Leo
mentioned you seemed in your element, but the dance
instructor wasn’t too happy about their presence.”
I nodded. “I think Leo’s presence intimidated most of
them. Don’t you think having two bodyguards is overkill?
I’m sure it would be fine if Leo stayed in his car in front of
the studio. There’s only one entrance.”
“No,” Samuel said, his tone brooking no argument.
I opened my mouth, but he gave me a hard look. “My
sister was kidnapped right under my nose. If we’d had more
bodyguards with us, that wouldn’t have happened.”
“But why would anyone kidnap me?”
“Because you’re my wife. You’re Danilo’s sister. There are
two Underbosses in your immediate family. It would make
the Bratva’s, the Famiglia’s, and the Camorra’s day to get
their hands on you.”
“You really think the Camorra would try something like
that again? And the Famiglia has never targeted women.”
“I don’t trust any of them. We once thought nobody
would step as low as to attack a bride on her wedding day.”
I nodded slowly. No girl in the Outfit would ever live that
day down. “Okay. If that’s what it takes for me to keep
dancing.”
“It is.”
I decided not to push Samuel. I didn’t want to risk him
changing his mind about me taking ballet lessons.

The following afternoon, we took a private jet to Indianapolis

with Renato in tow. He and Samuel spent most of the one
hour and forty-five minutes chatting quietly.
Renato certainly looked like he could charm the pants off
a girl. I still didn’t like the idea of him marrying Giorgia, even
if that meant I would have my best friend in Minneapolis. I’d
have to talk to Danilo and Giorgia about this—not that I
thought I could change anyone’s mind. This was probably
already a done deal.
I closed the romcom I had been reading when we landed
in Indianapolis, then peered out of the window at the
familiar sight. I had lost count of the times I’d been at this
airport. In the first few years after my accident, my mother
had taken me to specialists all over the world in the hope of
giving my legs their previous functionality back. I had been
relieved when she’d finally given up. It had been a sort of
closure I’d needed to really start feeling comfortable in my
new skin.
Samuel and Renato rose from their chairs and came
toward me. Renato glanced at my book, then shook his
head. “A book like that is what makes life for men today
difficult. Women expect too much.”
I pursed my lips. “I’ll tell Giorgia to lower her
expectations for you.”
Samuel chuckled at Renato’s less-than-amused
expression and clapped his shoulder.

When Samuel, Renato, and I arrived at Danilo’s mansion, I

spotted Giorgia’s brother’s car out front. I only felt a brief
sense of homesickness when I moved toward the front door
with Samuel by my side.
“Behave,” Samuel muttered under his breath a moment
before my brother opened the door. He definitely hadn’t
meant me. That he had to remind Renato of it rubbed me
the wrong way. I had to talk to Giorgia first before any
insane deals were struck.
 Danilo gave Samuel and Renato terse nods before he
bent down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I gave him a
smile. “Are you all right?” he murmured as he scanned my
face. I had trouble sleeping since Samuel came home
stinking drunk, but of course I couldn’t mention that to my
brother. “I am.”
“Giorgia and her brother are in the living room.”
“I thought her mother wanted to come too?” I asked.
“Her brother is the master of the house. He has the last
word on her future, not her mother,” Danilo pointed out.
I moved toward the living area, where I found Sofia in
conversation with Giorgia while her brother checked
something on his phone. Giorgia pushed to her feet and
rushed toward me, hugging me tightly. I too had missed her
and only realized how much I did as I clung to her.
“I can’t wait to live close to you,” she whispered.
I pulled back. Sofia had gotten up as well and so had
Giorgia’s brother. I greeted him with a smile and Sofia with a
hug. “I hope my brother behaves himself.”
Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “It’s a work in
progress.”
I laughed.
“What about Samuel?”
I shrugged. “Definitely a work in progress.”
The men entered at that moment, and Giorgia’s brother
immediately went to them. They greeted each other with
handshakes, but the atmosphere was way too testosterone-
fueled for my liking.
Sofia cleared her throat. “I’ll go into the kitchen and let
them know we’re ready for coffee and cake.”
Renato sent Giorgia a smile that had her brother
scowling. It was a little too intimate.
“Giorgia and I need to chat while you exchange your
official pleasantries,” I muttered and motioned for Giorgia to
proceed.
 I led Giorgia into the lobby and shook my head. “Really,
him?”
She pulled a face. “He’s the best option, Emma. I don’t
have an Underboss jumping at the chance to marry me. I’ll
be eighteen soon. My mother is losing her patience with me
and so is my brother. They are ready to marry me off to that
old bastard in Italy. He looks like a toad and is way too old.
Just the thought of having to touch him…”
Giorgia looked like she was about to be sick. Then she
blew out a breath. “Even if Renato is intolerable as far as I
can tell from our short encounters, he’s at least quite good-
looking, so I won’t be repulsed if we have to consummate
the marriage at some point.”
I nodded because I totally understood. “You don’t mind
that it’s a deal because you both are desperate?”
Giorgia shook her head. “Most arranged marriages are
deals, right?”
I shrugged. But some deals were more tasteless than
others. I still wondered why Samuel had agreed to marry
me. That argument of strengthening the bond between our
families was nonsense, that was for sure. “Samuel
mentioned that Renato isn’t the faithful type.”
Giorgia chuckled. “He’s a Casanova and way too sure of
himself. He’s cocky and annoying. He’ll drive me up the
wall.”
“That doesn’t make him sound like marriage material.”
“He’s not, but I picked him. Mom will be annoyed that she
won’t get her way, and I’ll figure out a way to deal with
Renato once we’re married.”
I sighed. “I’m just happy you’ll live close to me.”
She grinned. “See, that makes marrying him worth it.”
When Giorgia and I returned to the living room, the men
sat around the table and were already discussing wedding
dates from the look of it.
“It looks like you’ll become my wife, Giorgia. Your brother
showed me your doctor’s statement that you’re fertile. So
let’s hope you’ll be pregnant with my heir by the time I turn
thirty.”
My lips curled in disgust. That was also part of the deal?
Giorgia had to provide an heir for him to inherit everything?
I sent Giorgia a disbelieving look. She gave me an
embarrassed smile.
“That’s a tasteless deal.” It burst out of me. “You’re
behaving like a pig.”
Renato scowled. “I can’t see how my deal with Giorgia is
any less tasteless than the deal between your brother and
your husband that forced Samuel to marry you.”
My heart did a thud as I blinked at Renato.
Sofia sent Danilo a look that made it clear she knew
about the deal, and Samuel looked ready to murder his
friend. Apparently, everyone knew except for me. It
reminded me of how my mother had lied to me after my
accident under the pretense of trying to protect me when it
had been just as much about protecting herself from the
truth. This too felt like everyone had kept the details of the
arrangement from me to avoid an unpleasant confrontation.
Fuck it. I scowled at Renato, who grimaced and gave me an
apologetic look. Too late.
Emma paled, looking like she was about to cry.
“Emma—” Danilo and I said at the same time, but I
stepped forward. Emma was my wife. It was more important
that I cleared things up between us.
“Let’s have a word,” I told Emma and put a hand on her
shoulder. She shied back from my touch, and I dropped my
arm to my side.
“You can talk in my office,” Danilo said quietly. “And I’ll
have a chat with Renato.”
For all I cared, he could rip Renato a new one, even if
Renato wasn’t his soldier.
Emma and I headed toward the office in utter silence. It
was the first time I was allowed to be without Danilo in his
office.
I closed the door, then immediately turned to Emma, who
looked like she was teetering on the edge of a breakdown.
“Renato is an idiot. He shouldn’t have said anything.”
Emma fixed me with a hard look. “Did he lie?”
“You know that arranged marriages are always deals.”
She shook her head. “You owe me the truth. What did
Danilo do to make you marry me?”
I gritted my teeth. “It was a long time ago. I’m glad I
married you.”
“What did he do?”
I had feared the truth would come out eventually. “My
sister Serafina refused to marry him after she was
kidnapped. But he had a right to her hand. We wanted him
to accept Sofia instead so Serafina could heal from her
ordeal. He said he would only agree to marry Sofia if I
married you.”
I worried about what Emma would make out of this deal.
She turned her wheelchair so I had to look at her brown
hair. Her voice was thick with tears when she spoke. “You
must have hated to be blackmailed into marrying me.”
 I walked around so I could look at her. She was clutching
her hands, and tears were running down her cheeks. “Your
brother didn’t blackmail me, Emma. We had an agreement,
one like almost all marriages in our world are based on. I
understand your anger. Sofia was angry too when she found
out.”
Emma swallowed thickly. I hated not seeing her face, so I
squatted in front of her and took her hand despite her
tension at my closeness.
I hated seeing her so broken up. “You were too young for
me, and Sofia was too young for Danilo. That’s why neither
of us wanted to marry you girls.”
Emma looked me straight in the eye. “Danilo is attracted
to Sofia.”
I frowned. “He definitely wasn’t back then, or I would
have put his dick into a vise.” I moved closer. “And you know
I’m attracted to you. Or do I need to show you more often?”
I allowed my expression to become hungry, but Emma
didn’t crack a smile.
I realized I needed to give Emma more than just a sexual
innuendo. And in the few weeks since our marriage, I had
already seen that she was a good match for me beyond the
bedroom as well, even if her worry meant I had to be more
careful about my drinking habits.
I cleared my throat. “I’ve never regretted marrying you,
and I know I won’t. I’m fucking glad your brother asked me
to marry you. You are the woman I needed in my life. Your
resilience and your ability to let the past rest and just enjoy
the present is something I aspire to succeed at as well.”
Surprise crossed Emma’s face at my words. I
straightened, feeling as if I’d bared my soul with that simple
admittance. Emotional declarations always made me want
to wash my mouth out with soap, but I could tell it had the
desired effect.
She let out a small sigh. “I’m not perfect. I too get caught
up in events from the past sometimes or want to give up on
certain things if I’m frustrated. But I agree, I think we’re a
good match.”
I nodded. “We are, and we’ll be even better together
once we know more of the other. It takes time.”
She tilted her head. “Sometimes I’m not sure you really
want me to know more about you. You have very high walls.
It’s hard to break through them.”
She had a point. I wanted a wife whom I could trust, but
at the same time, I knew I’d have to bare my soul to her on
many levels to reach the kind of trust my parents had. It
was an uncomfortable thought for me. “I know. I’m working
on it.”
“And please promise me you won’t hide anything from
me to protect me. I can handle things, and I want to handle
them.”
“I know you can.”

That night, I showed Emma just how happy I was about our
bond—with my fingers, tongue and cock—despite her worry
about Danilo being under the same roof. For all I cared, he
could hear me giving his sister several orgasms. Thankfully,
I didn’t hear anything of the sort from Sofia’s and his
bedroom.
When Emma had fallen asleep, I went downstairs. Light
spilled out from Danilo’s office. I needed a drink. The flask
I’d taken with me was already empty. I knocked briefly, then
entered the office. Danilo sat on the sofa with a tumbler in
his hand and across from him was Renato. “I need a drink
too.”
 Danilo scanned me. My hair was slightly disheveled, and I
was only in pajama pants and a shirt since it was past
midnight. His expression darkened further when Renato
wiggled his eyebrows. I accepted the glass of whiskey that
Danilo held out to me, then sat down in the armchair beside
Renato. I was still pissed at him.
We chatted about casinos and brothels, staying away
from the topic of our wives. I was more than glad not to
discuss my marriage with Danilo. Eventually, Danilo stopped
drinking while Renato and I began a new bottle of whiskey
that he offered us. It was past two in the morning, and I
could tell that Danilo would have gone to bed if he trusted
us alone in his office.
“I thought you wanted to leave early in the morning?” he
asked.
“We do.”
“Then you’ll need a driver.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “I can drive.”
“I doubt you’ll be sober enough by morning.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s none of your
business.”
“But my sister’s safety is my business. A drunk driver
ruined her life.”
I gritted my teeth. “Stay out of my fucking business,
Danilo.”
“Come now, let’s not get into a fight over this. I can
assure you Samuel can hold his liquor better than anyone
else I know.”
I sent Renato a dark look. Did he really think that was a
compliment?
I didn’t finish the drink in my glass.
Danilo hovered when Emma, Renato, and I got into the
rental car. But he obviously realized I wasn’t still drunk—I
hadn’t even been drunk last night—and let us leave without
another argument. I had a feeling he had said something to
Emma about my drinking, though, because she was a little
tense during the ride to the airport. I didn’t ask. It wasn’t a
topic I wanted to discuss with her or anyone.
A little over a month after our wedding, Emma and I had to
attend our first social event in Minneapolis: my mother’s
fifty-first birthday party.
Emma looked stunning in a terracotta evening dress that
accentuated her narrow waist. The neckline was low, giving
me a tantalizing look at the swell of her breasts. Jealousy
reared its head when I considered the view many men
would get.
As usual, my mother had to invite the families of every
Captain. Sofia had flown in for one night too, but without
Danilo because he was busy with business. Dante and his
family were there too, minus my cousin Anna who was in
Paris. Dante’s presence meant Dad and I could talk to him
and Leonas later.
I greeted most people with a brief nod and shook the
occasional hand. Most of the guests had been at our
wedding as well. I could tell Emma felt uncomfortable under
the force of everyone’s attention. Eventually, when we
settled a little to the side in the living room with glasses of
champagne, I told her, “You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m used to it,” Emma insisted. “But that doesn’t mean I
like it. I keep hoping people will start ignoring me.”
“You’re the wife of the next Underboss. Nobody is ever
going to ignore you. You married the wrong man for that
kind of life. Will you be okay with it?”
Emma pursed her lips, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t
have a choice, right?”
I shook my head. She didn’t. She’d have to attend even
more social functions than me in the future to schmooze the
wives of the Captains and certain politicians.
“I just wish people would stop giving me that look.”
I let my gaze wander over the gathered guests, but
people were careful to keep their faces neutral when they
felt my eyes on them. Still, I caught the occasional look of
doubt.
“What look?”
“Like I’m a liability,” Emma muttered, her eyes full of
indignation.
I emptied my champagne. “They’re ignorant. Eventually,
they’ll realize they were wrong.”
When people looked at us, they pinpointed Emma as the
weakness in our relationship because what people
perceived as her flaw was apparent to the naked eye. My
flaws were well hidden.
One of my great-aunts, who was only invited because
honor dictated it and not because my parents liked her,
approached us with a benevolent smile. She stopped in front
of us and supported her weight on her walking stick. She
was probably around ninety. “Samuel and his wife,” she said
with a too bright smile, but her eyes were like those of a
hawk. “When can we expect offspring?”
My mouth set in a tight line. Emma took a sip from her
champagne, her expression pinching.
 “That’s a very private question, Aunt,” Dante said as he
came up behind her. She clucked her tongue but excused
herself with a tight smile. Valentina and Leonas joined us a
moment later.
Dante gave Emma a small smile before he turned to me.
“How about we discuss Leonas’s stay now?”
“Business talk at your sister’s birthday?” Valentina asked
with a frown.
Emma shrugged and rolled her eyes.
“It’s not a milestone birthday,” I said. Mom had
celebrated her fiftieth birthday with a huge party last year.
“Excuse us,” I told Emma and Valentina. I knew Valentina
would keep Emma entertained until my mother could evade
the chatty wives she was stuck with.
Leonas gave me a bored look. “Samuel.”
“Leonas,” I deadpanned.
Dante and I walked ahead toward Dad’s office. I didn’t
see him anywhere. Maybe he was already waiting for us.
Leonas trailed us a few steps, letting his cool gaze scan the
crowd, but nothing caught his interest. Knowing him, he
preferred a very different kind of celebration, with pot,
booze, and girls.
As suspected, Dad was in his office, probably already
tired of socializing. He greeted us with a new bottle of
bourbon and handed glasses to Dante and me.
Leonas scoffed. “Come on, Uncle Pietro. I’m a Made Man.
I fuck girls, I kill, I torture, and you refuse to give me a drink
like I’m a little kid?”
Pietro looked at Dante, who had the last word on the
matter.
I didn’t remember the first time I’d had a drink. Maybe
after my first time when I was fourteen.
“As with almost everything, it’s a matter of moderation,”
Dante drawled with a hard look at Leonas.
“Why would I want to fuck in moderation?”
“You won’t ever talk like that in front of your mother.”
 “She knows I’m not a virgin anymore. There are no
virgins in the mafia.” I could tell he was riling up his father
on purpose. I remembered times when I was like that too.
“One drink,” Dante clipped.
Leonas winked at me. Dad handed him a tumbler, and we
finally clinked glasses.
“Whoo,” Leonas exclaimed, letting out a hiss after
downing the drink in one gulp.
I could tell he would be a handful to keep in check. His
teenage antics would undoubtedly drive me up the wall.
He and I stayed in the office when Dad and Dante left a
little later.
Leonas lifted his glass. I rolled my eyes and poured him a
small sip.
“When you take over from your father, will you change
how things are handled?” he asked, suddenly dead serious
and not sounding like a teenager at all.
I cocked an eyebrow. “In what regard?”
“The Outfit has shown a lot of restraint over the years
when we should have sought revenge, when we should have
sent a bloody message.”
I didn’t say anything. “Some things aren’t for me to
decide, even once I’m Underboss. That’s the job of a Capo.”
“When I’m Capo, our enemies will regret they ever
underestimated us.” I didn’t think they underestimated us.
They knew Dante had a more controlled approach to many
things. Leonas’s green eyes met mine. “I definitely won’t
stop you from getting revenge on the crazy fuckers in Las
Vegas.”
My smile became hard. “We killed one of their
Underbosses.”
Leonas shook his head. “That’s not enough. Don’t tell me
it’s enough for what Remo Falcone and his brothers did.”
It wasn’t, but unless we did what he had done, I didn’t
see how it could ever be enough. “You are young. Until
you’re Capo, your perspective will change.”
 Leonas smirked.

I wasn’t looking forward to August. Another wedding to

attend with Renato and Giorgia’s last-minute nuptials,
becoming Leonas’s babysitter, and worst of all, the
anniversary of Arlo’s, Enea’s, and Domenico’s death.
Emma must have felt my darkening mood because she
often regarded me in worry. I knew she wanted to help, but I
didn’t see how she could. I was taking over more and more
tasks from my father every day to make the switch to me
becoming Underboss go as smoothly as possible, but that
also meant the focus shifted more and more toward me,
and, as a result, also on Emma. Our life would remain in the
spotlight for a while, especially with people wondering
when, how, and if we’d ever have children. I wasn’t too keen
on becoming a father yet, not with the tasks ahead in the
next couple of years. Emma and I had never discussed the
matter of children or the prevention thereof. I hadn’t ever
used protection, so I couldn’t help but wonder if Emma
could conceive. We had only been married for six weeks, so
it wasn’t as if it was unusual, even without protection, that
she wasn’t pregnant.
Still, I was reluctant to approach the subject of children
with Emma. I didn’t want to rip open certain wounds, but I
also despised relying on the tasteless rumors making the
rounds to build my knowledge.
After dinner, I had gone to my office to check the
documents our accountant had sent us for the dummy
corporations we upheld to launder our drug money, but now
I went in search of Emma to finally broach the subject with
her. I found her in the living room, huddled into a corner of
the sofa with a book. Emma looked up from her book, her
brows pulling together as she scanned my face.
I gave her a tight smile and sank down on the sofa beside
her. She watched me curiously. “Is something the matter?”
“As you know, we’re expected to have children,” I said
carefully. I was tired of the subtle and not-so-subtle
comments from friends, soldiers, and distant relatives—my
parents rarely bugged me with this—regarding our
nonexistent chances of having children. I wanted certainty.
She put her book aside and leaned back, pursing her lips.
“You want to discuss it now?”
I couldn’t determine the emotion in her voice, but she
was not happy about the topic. “I think we should do it
sooner rather than later. You never mentioned if the
accident caused any injuries that would affect us having
children and whether we might need help becoming
parents.”
She tilted her head, regarding me with a quiet intensity
that almost made me squirm. “Of course, it’s always good to
be prepared, but what makes you think we need help?”
The way she emphasized help made it clear she didn’t
like my choice of words. To be honest, I had never
researched the matter and didn’t know what exactly needed
to be done in our case. “Emma,” I said firmly. Despite the
short time we were married, I knew she didn’t like to be
reduced to her wheelchair, but we needed to face the reality
of the situation. I didn’t have any detailed knowledge about
the extent of her injuries from the accident, and I didn’t
trust Danilo or my mother-in-law to be honest with me. “You
know what I’m talking about.”
“I do,” she said with a small sigh. “You think I’m infertile
because I’m in a wheelchair like so many rumors are
suggesting, which is another reason I was labeled damaged
goods. You could have asked me instead of believing the
rumors.”
 Emma calling herself damaged goods made my blood
boil. Nobody had dared to call her that in my presence, or
they would have suffered a similar fate as the useless
recruit.
She was right. My assumption was based solely on the
information that had been making the rounds in our circles
and that even my parents had shared, which neither Emma
nor her parents had ever contradicted. “I assumed the injury
to your spinal cord resulted in infertility issues.”
Fuck, I wasn’t a doctor, and like many men in our circles,
I really didn’t like to think or talk about women’s issues.
“It can cause certain issues to keep a pregnancy or
become pregnant at all, but in my case, it doesn’t. Of
course, other issues having nothing to do with the accident
might lead to the same infertility issues every woman might
be affected by. I’m as fertile as a woman with working legs
can be. I can get pregnant, and I can bear children, and my
doctor assured me that I don’t have a higher risk of a
miscarriage than any other woman does.”
“All right,” I said slowly, feeling relieved. “If that’s the
case, then why didn’t you or your parents say something to
dissuade the rumors?”
She smiled bitterly. “Because,” she said, “my fertility isn’t
anyone’s business. You make it sound as if I should have
defended myself. My value isn’t based on my reproductive
organs, Samuel. I’m telling you now because you asked and
because, as my husband, you deserve to know, but anyone
else can just assume whatever they want.”
When she was angry like that, with her skin flushed and
her hair a little messy from her agitation, she was even
more gorgeous. She was always lovely, not just when she
was angry, but then in particular.
“It would have killed the rumors.”
“People would have found new things to gossip about,”
she said with a small shrug, but I could see that it bothered
her.
 “They always do,” I agreed. “I assume you want
children?”
I had to admit I was relieved we wouldn’t have to use
additional help. The idea of having to shoot my load into a
little cup so doctors could get Emma pregnant just made me
uncomfortable. It was ridiculous, but I simply wanted to get
her pregnant the natural way.
Her expression softened. “I do.”
I nodded, glad we’d discussed the matter. “I never use
protection, and we have sex a lot.” I couldn’t stop the smirk
from appearing on my face.
Emma nodded. “I’m taking the pill.”
I narrowed my eyes in thought. “Shouldn’t you have told
me?”
“Up until now, you didn’t seem to be concerned about
contraception. I assumed you didn’t care.”
“Why are you taking the pill? Do you feel too young to
become a mother?”
“Maybe, to a small degree, but mainly, I don’t think we’re
ready for kids yet.”
We still barely knew each other. Things were getting
easier by the day, but I was definitely still emotionally
detached. I wasn’t sure when and if that would change. “Our
marriage is still young, but many couples in our world don’t
let that stop them.”
Emma bit her lip. “Do you even want children now?”
I didn’t have a deeply buried longing for children. I
wanted them at some point. “I’m more curious why you
don’t want them now.”
Something in her expression set my alarms off. She
leaned forward and touched my hand. “Samuel, I’m not
stupid, nor am I blind. Before we should consider having
children, I think you need to work on your problem.”
I narrowed my eyes and pulled my hand away. “What
problem?”
She sighed. “Your drinking.”
Samuel jerked to his feet, his expression turning ice cold.
Samuel wasn’t a man who raged or shouted, and while it
was something I appreciated, his quiet anger and
broodiness could be difficult as well. “You don’t know what
you’re talking about,” he clipped. “Most Made Men have a
drink after a shitty day. If you saw what we do, you’d have a
drink too, trust me.”
I’d expected this reaction and also his explanation.
“You drink more than one glass or two, and when you
work from home, you drink throughout the day.”
“Have you ever seen me drunk, Emma?” he growled.
“Except for that one time I went out with Renato. One
fucking time.”
“You’re right. That was the only time I saw you drunk,” I
said softly. “And that’s what really worries me, considering
how many bottles of whiskey are in our trash every week.”
Two weeks ago, I noticed it and then started checking.
Maybe the history of my accident made me sensitive to
alcohol problems, but everyone would have been shocked
by how many empty bottles were in the trash, and those
were only the drinks Samuel had at home, not when he was
in Outfit establishments.
 “You’re my wife, Emma, not my nanny. Not even my
mother shoved her nose into my business like that. I’m a
grown man and don’t need someone to tell me how much I
can drink.” He glanced down at his watch. “It’s getting late.
I still have work to do. And maybe I’ll have another drink
while I do.”
He held my gaze with a look of challenge and fury.
I didn’t say anything, feeling my throat tighten at his
harsh words. He turned on his heel and left me sitting there.
I resisted the urge to follow him. I hated unfinished
arguments, and this felt very much like an unfinished
argument. He obviously felt attacked by my words when I
was only driven by concern.
Maybe I should have approached the matter differently,
but I didn’t know how. I didn’t have experience with
addiction. Not that I was sure that Samuel had already
crossed the line to being an addict, but he was definitely
teetering on the edge. His alcohol consumption was far from
moderate—that much was clear. I wished I could talk about
this with someone, but I absolutely trusted only a few
people—Danilo and Giorgia, but the former disliked Samuel,
and the latter was busy with her last-minute wedding.
I couldn’t talk to Danilo because he would only confront
Samuel in an attempt to protect me, which would only anger
Samuel more. Not to mention that he’d see it as a breach of
trust. Maybe I could talk to Mom. She wasn’t always easy,
but maybe this was something she could help me with. She
had led a happy marriage with Dad after all. But she’d only
just found new happiness since Dad had died, and I didn’t
want to worry her unnecessarily. She’d spent too many
years fretting over Dad’s and my health.
I was on my own in this. I had to follow my gut instinct
and try to keep talking to Samuel and show him my support.
Samuel didn’t come to bed until the early morning hours. I
had just turned off the lights because I was too agitated to
sleep and had finished my book when I heard him coming
up the stairs. The door opened and light spilled in,
illuminating my tall, broad husband. He’d already gotten rid
of his tie, and his shirt was half unbuttoned. As usual, the
sight of Samuel’s toned body tightened my belly in the most
torturous way. I had never felt desire this acute.
Something in Samuel’s expression told me he’d drunk
again, maybe even more so than usual, maybe to prove a
point. To prove that he was in control of his choices, of
himself.
“You’re late,” I said into the silence. Samuel came into
the dark room but left the lights in the hallway on. He
unbuttoned his shirt and discarded it on the floor. Then he
stalked toward the bed. I wondered if he wanted to continue
our argument. His pissed expression suggested it, but
instead, he bent over me, cupped the back of my head, and
slammed his mouth down on mine. I gasped against his lips,
and his tongue slipped in. As expected, he tasted like the
expensive whiskies lining the shelves in his office. The taste
was pleasant, a little smoky and sweet, but I still hated that
he’d drunk to prove a point. His tongue teased mine, and
soon sparks seemed to fill my body, and heat gathered
between my legs.
He dragged his lips away and tugged down my
nightgown before he sucked my breast into his mouth. I
gasped at the unexpected sensation. His motions were less
inhibited, almost wild, as he licked and sucked at my breast,
his teeth grazing my nipple several times.
 “Samuel,” I got out in a shaky whisper. “Are you—”
“I don’t want to talk,” he rasped. “I want to eat you and
then fuck you.”
Maybe I should have stopped him. Solving our problems
with sex seemed like a recipe for disaster, but I yearned for
him.
He slid down my body, shoved my panties down and my
legs apart, and then he sucked my clit hard. I cried out,
completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation.
He released my clit after another slightly softer tug and
pushed his tongue into me. I gasped as he slammed his
tongue into me hard and fast and spread me even wider
open for better access. His stubble lightly scratched my ass
cheeks and inner thighs, and the friction turned me on even
more. He’d never been this dominant and demanding
before. I squirmed helplessly on the bed, my fingers digging
into the sheets, my shock-widened eyes peering up at the
shadowy ceiling as Samuel teased my opening relentlessly
with his tongue. There was something animalistic about his
unrestrained, barely controlled touch. I risked a glance down
but could only see his blond head and hear him. He didn’t
let up his penetration. I rocked my hips desperately, wanting
to be touched where I throbbed fiercely. Samuel pulled back,
and I whimpered. “Hold still,” he ordered in a low growl.
I bit my lip, my nails scratching over the linen, waiting for
Samuel to continue, but he waited almost a minute as if he
wanted to see if I would obey him and really lie still. His
fingers spread me open, and I shuddered at his touch. Then
he pushed his tongue into me so very slowly, still not
touching my clit. He slid back out unhurriedly. I was
incredibly aroused, almost delirious with the need to come.
Samuel circled my opening with his tongue, and I moaned.
“Samuel, I need—”
“No,” he clipped, then fucked me slowly with his tongue
again. I squeezed my eyes shut, panting.
 I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of Samuel’s
teasing. Maybe it was even a sort of punishment. Samuel’s
tongue brushed up and down, sometimes so lightly the
touch seemed almost nonexistent, sometimes demanding
and hard, but it never grazed my clit where I needed his
touch the most. Soon, he turned his attention back to my
opening. His tongue began to circle me, teasing me again.
Even though he never touched my clit, I could soon feel an
insistent pounding in my sensitive nub. Maybe I would come
without being touched there.
He pulled away, and I whined in protest. He chuckled low
in his throat. “I love how wet you are. I can taste how much
this turns you on. You are dripping on my tongue.”
Embarrassment washed over me, and I felt myself blush
fiercely. Luckily, Samuel couldn’t see it, but he probably
knew. I’d never been this wet, not even close, but Samuel’s
touch lit my body on fire.
“You’re going to come now,” he growled.
He slammed two fingers into me and sucked my clit, and
I shattered under the force of the pleasure.
I could feel my flesh pulsating against his mouth as I
shoved my head into the pillow, my fingers raking over the
sheets. Samuel groaned against me.
I was still reeling from my orgasm when Samuel pushed
to his feet and rolled me over on my belly. I heard him open
his belt, and the rustling of his clothes told me he was
getting naked. My core clenched in anticipation even though
I wasn’t sure how much more my body could take at this
point. His weight pressed down on me, his hot breath
against my shoulder as he kissed me there, then my throat.
I panted against the pillow, unable to move. He rubbed his
tip along my opening until I was panting for more. Holding
my hips, he pushed into me.
My breathing hitched when he settled all the way inside
me. I felt so full, and the angle offered a new, more intense
sensation.
 “You feel good, Emma,” he murmured, his lips grazing my
cheek as he slowly eased out of me before he thrust back
inside.
He snaked his arm under me and pressed his finger
against my clit. The intense pressure of my clit and his deep
thrusts soon had me moaning uncontrollably into the pillow.
Samuel always made me forget everything else in these
moments when our bodies joined. The feel of him on top of
me, inside me, his warm breath against my neck, his deep
moans…became my sole existence until stars exploded
before my eyes and the waves of pleasure coursing through
my body blasted away all else.
His release spilled into me, and I shivered under a new
wave of pleasure. Samuel became slack on me, his
breathing still hot on my neck and his cock softening inside
me.
His finger still pressed against my clit but didn’t move
anymore. I wanted to stay like this forever. I didn’t want to
return to being mad at each other.
Yet Samuel took a deep breath and got off me. I stayed
on my belly, too exhausted to move. Samuel moved in the
room and returned a moment later with a washcloth that he
used to gently clean me. The caring gesture made my heart
thud madly in my chest. Then he stunned me by kissing my
ass cheek. “I love your ass. It’s beautiful like the rest of you.
Beautiful inside and out.” His words were laced with
tiredness and alcohol. Had the whisky spoken? Or had it
only teased out words that he’d usually keep to himself?
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
Samuel stretched out beside me and fell asleep without
another word, his breathing deep and low.
I was wide awake. My pulse was still racing, and Samuel’s
words kept repeating in my head. They had been tender and
affectionate. I could feel myself falling for him, having
already had a crush on him even before we’d married.
 But should I turn a blind eye to his struggles for now?
Should I allow our bond to grow before I tried again?
Would he ever even let me get close enough to admit
any problems to me?
I glared at the whisky in my hand. Since Emma’s words,
every drop had tasted bitter, laced with guilt. What right did
she have to judge me? She didn’t know anything about me.
Even if I drank a bit too much on occasion, with the shit I
had to deal with on a daily basis, this was to be expected.
I set the glass down on the side table and leaned back,
staring up at the ceiling. In the past, I’d only drunk at
parties or to celebrate something with fellow Made Men.
Drinking alone had started after Serafina got kidnapped and
my friends died because of my idiotic attempt to save her.
Alcohol had become a way to numb the guilt, the anger, the
worry, the sadness.
In our world, men were supposed to appear invincible.
Admitting any kind of weakness was out of the question.
Maybe I had a problem, but I was in control. I could stop if I
wanted to. But if I refused to drink with company, people
would eventually ask why. If I mentioned I didn’t drink at all,
they’d think I had a problem. They’d see it as a weakness—
something I couldn’t risk. I was in control. Emma was simply
sensitive because of her past. I got it. The past clung to me
too. I downed my whisky. I was in control, and Emma would
soon realize it.

In the following two weeks, I tried to drink only with

company and not at home. It worked out except for a few
minor slips when Leonas drove me up the wall with a risky
maneuver. The brat wouldn’t get himself killed while under
my protection.
But my good intentions went to hell when the
anniversary of my friends’ deaths loomed on the horizon.
Renato offered to join me at their graves, but I declined.
This year, I didn’t feel like company. Of course, Emma knew
something was up and came into my office the night before
the anniversary of the attack on the Falcone mansion and
the brutal deaths of my friends.
She was already in a flimsy white nightgown, her curls
trailing down her slender shoulders when she moved toward
me. I sat in my desk chair, a half-empty bottle of bourbon on
the desk and a half-full glass in my hand. I met her gaze
over the rim as I downed the rest of the liquor.
Emma’s eyes were concerned, not accusing. I would have
preferred her anger. “Tomorrow is the day you lost your
friends, right?”
Her voice was gentle and careful as if she worried I’d
break down at the mere mention of it. I had never broken
down in public. I hadn’t even cried after their deaths. I kept
my emotions bottled up as deeply as I could.
 “The day they got murdered because of me, yes,” I said,
pouring myself another glass. Emma watched but didn’t say
anything.
“It’s okay to be sad, you know? Even as a Made Man, it’s
okay to be sad to have lost someone.”
Sadness wasn’t at the forefront of my emotions anymore.
It hadn’t been in a while. Now it was mainly guilt, regret,
and bitterness.
“Mostly, I’m angry with the stupid Samuel of the past,” I
admitted after another gulp. Heat spread in my insides, and
the numbing effects of the alcohol were becoming apparent.
Emma moved even closer and touched the hand resting
on the armrest. “He did what he thought was right. He
wanted to protect someone he loved more than anything
else.” Her voice vibrated with emotions.
I took a deep gulp, my heart clenching. “And she
betrayed me for a man who is incapable of love, a man who
kidnapped and brutalized her.” Emotions from the past
came up, but I squashed them. Sofia wanted contact with
Serafina. Maybe she hoped it would all make sense then,
but over the years, every contact with my twin had made
her decisions of the past make less sense to me, and it
made me regret my own choice all the more.
“Do you want me to come with you when you visit their
graves tomorrow? That’s what you’ll do, right?”
“In the afternoon. Their families will visit the graves in
the morning. But I don’t think you should come.” It was a
deeply personal moment.
Emma curled her fingers around mine. “I might not be
able to walk, but I’ll carry your worries as if they’re mine,
Samuel. You don’t have to shoulder all the problems by
yourself. I’m your wife, and I’m here for you, always.”
I regarded my wife. She obviously wanted to help me.
Maybe she needed this even more than I did. I had been
pushing her away in the past few weeks—not that I’d
allowed her a deep look into my heart before that. I emptied
the glass and gave a terse nod. “Maybe then you’ll
understand why I feel the way I do.”
Emma smiled, then pried my fingers off the armrest. “Will
you come to bed? It’s late.” Her eyes flitted to the now
almost empty bottle.
I nodded and got to my feet. I needed to feel and taste
Emma to distract myself. The alcohol didn’t do the trick
today. Sleep was out of the question anyway.

I returned home in the early afternoon to pick up Emma.

She was dressed in a dark blue dress and a cardigan of the
same color with very little makeup. Maybe this was her way
to pay respects to the dead. I too had chosen a dark suit for
once, though I doubted the dead cared what we wore.
We were silent on the ride to the graveyard, and I was
glad Emma didn’t try to make small talk. I was on edge, had
been all day, and the flask I’d emptied before I’d picked up
Emma hadn’t helped in the slightest.
If she could smell the alcohol on me, she didn’t show it. I
parked in my usual spot right in front of the south gate
entrance. Emma and I followed the fine gravel path I always
took, then stopped in front of Arlo’s light gray granite family
crypt. It was close to the pathway, so Emma only had to
cross a short distance of grass. However, the grass slope
was bumpy, so I pushed her the rest of the way until we
stood right in front of the pyramid-shaped crypt.
Over the years, the number of flowers put down on the
anniversary of their deaths had become fewer, and as I
stepped inside the narrow, dark crypt, I didn’t find a single
flower on Arlo’s headstone. I put down the white carnations
Emma had bought before I’d picked her up.
I shifted to the side so Emma could look inside. The space
was too narrow for her. It was the smallest of the three
crypts we’d visit today. Arlo’s father had died two years ago
during a fight with the Bratva, and his mother had taken her
life a few months ago. Now it seemed I was the only one still
mourning him. I too only came once a year now.
“I’m sorry, my friend,” I murmured, then motioned for
Emma to move back. Together, we left and traveled in
silence toward Enea’s family crypt two graves down the
aisle.
His grave had two bouquets on it. One from his younger
sister and one from his parents. In the past, his fiancée had
put flowers there too, but she was long married and had two
children. Emma regarded me closely, but my expression was
a cold mask. If she hoped to find a crack in it, then her
chances were the best at Domenico’s grave.
When we moved on to his grave, I felt a flood of
memories rising. I rarely allowed them anymore, but they
sometimes still came at night, but on the day of his death, I
always let the memories take hold of me. Emma and I
entered the white marble crypt of Domenico’s family. His
grave was covered with flowers as always, and the photo of
him and our group of friends, minus myself, sat in front of it.
I got down on my haunches and touched the grave. Briefly
closing my eyes, I remembered the look of agony on his
face before he died and his cries for his mom and his
begging. “I’m sorry, my friend.”
Emma touched my shoulder. I glanced at her. Tears
brimmed in her eyes. Tears I would never allow myself. She
gave me a small, emotional smile.
“Do you understand now? Can you see what my actions
have done?”
“I understand that you’re judging yourself because of
what you know now, but I think you would forgive yourself if
you reminded yourself of what past Samuel knew: that your
twin was in the hands of the brutal enemy, that she was
being tortured and possibly raped, and that nobody would
risk to save her, except you.”
I shook my head. “Domenico’s mother judges me for
both, and it’s her right.”
“Maybe she can’t forgive you for many reasons, but I
know you should forgive yourself.”
“I’m not a forgiving man, not toward others and not
toward myself.”
Emma touched my cheek. “I can see that. But if you can’t
do it for yourself, then maybe do it for us and for the family
we’ll one day have.”

After witnessing Samuel’s guilt and sadness at the

graveyard, I decided to do something. If he wanted to have
any chance of fighting his alcohol problem, he needed to
move on and forgive himself. But he would never do it
because he didn’t feel like he could.
Leo gave me a questioning look when I told him to take
me to Domenico’s parents. “I don’t know if that’s a good
idea. I’ll have to ask Samuel.”
 I narrowed my eyes. “Do you have to ask Samuel for
permission for every little thing I do?”
“This isn’t a little thing.” He picked up his phone but
couldn’t reach Samuel. “He’s questioning someone and not
available. We’ll have to wait.”
I shook my head. “Then I’ll call a taxi.”
“That’s not an option.”
“Then drive me there. It’s part of my duty as Samuel’s
wife to get to know the families of his soldiers, right?”
Leo looked less than convinced, but he finally started the
car. Of course, he tried to call Samuel two more times
during the drive.
I wasn’t sure if maybe I was crossing a line I shouldn’t,
but I needed to give it a try. Domenico’s family lived in a
small house in the suburbs. I didn’t know much about them
and had only met Domenico’s mother and brother when she
raged in the restaurant. I was a tiny bit anxious about how
she’d react, but I was willing to risk her wrath if it meant I
could put in a good word for Samuel.
Leo didn’t leave my side as we made our way to the front
door and he rang the bell. “I’ll have to interfere if she loses
it again. Grief isn’t an apology. It’s been years.”
“Don’t tell her that,” I whispered.
The door opened, and Domenico’s mother stood in front
of me. Her eyes widened when she spotted me. She was in
a bathrobe and looked slightly disheveled.
“I hope we didn’t wake you,” I said.
She scowled. “Of course not. I prepared my husband and
son breakfast before they left to do their duty for the
Outfit.”
I could hear that she didn’t think they should still be part
of the Outfit.
“I’d like to talk to you if that’s okay.”
She looked at Leo, who regarded her like a ticking time
bomb. Then she stepped back and nodded. She left the door
open and moved inside. We followed her into a living room.
The TV was playing. She sank down in front of it. An ironing
board and a heap of crumpled clothes stood off to the side.
I moved closer to her. Leo stopped right behind us. His
hovering was unnerving. She looked like someone who
struggled with grief and perhaps even depression but not
like she would attack me, at least not physically. She met
my gaze eventually.
“Samuel misses Domenico too, and I know he’s very
sorry.” Leo made a sound that suggested it wasn’t
something I should say. Was it really so bad if a man, even
one with power, admitted that he was sorry for something
like this? “I just thought you should know. I know that
doesn’t bring your son back, but Samuel never meant for
any of this to happen.”
“Everyone moves on with their lives, even my husband
and son. Everyone can except for Domenico and me.”
I nodded. For a mother to lose her child in this way must
have been horrible. It was probably impossible to move on
from that. “I don’t know if it would help you, but maybe
forgiveness would make some things easier.”
She let out a hollow laugh. “Forgiveness? Did you forgive
the man who cost you your legs?” She motioned at my
wheelchair.
I didn’t correct her that I still had my legs. I smiled. “I did,
eventually.”
“He paid with his life for what he did. Forgiving a dead
man is easy because he can’t flaunt his happiness in front of
you anymore.”
“I would have forgiven him even if he were alive. His
death didn’t change my situation.” I never asked Danilo or
Dad to kill him, and I wouldn’t have. His death didn’t change
anything for me, except for knowing that in addition to my
suffering, his family now grieved too. “Is that what you
desire? Samuel’s death?”
My voice broke slightly. I was falling for Samuel a little
more every day. Maybe I even loved him, and I wanted to
see him fully happy. Thinking that someone other than our
enemies wanted him dead hurt my heart.
Her eyes glazed over in thought. “Sometimes,” she
admitted. “I wish he had died and not my boy.”
I nodded. I understood that too.
She looked up at Leo, who was typing on his phone. “Is
that betrayal? You can tell him exactly what I said. I would
tell him and his father to their faces. They can kill me if they
want, then I’d finally be united with my boy again!”
Leo frowned at her as he lowered his phone, but he didn’t
say anything.
I realized she would never give Samuel her forgiveness.
That would require her to move on, and she would never
allow herself to do so. For her, it would feel like betraying
the child she’d lost.
I squeezed her hand. “I don’t understand your pain.
Nobody who hasn’t experienced it can, but I am sorry for
your loss. I know the things we lose always echo the
loudest.”
She swallowed hard and nodded.

Samuel came home early that day, and one look at his
tense face as he stepped outside on the porch where I was
doing origami told me that Leo had told him everything. Not
that I had expected anything less. Samuel probably always
got a detailed rundown of my day. I wasn’t sure if it was
concern or his need to control everything.
“That was very foolish,” he said quietly.
His quiet rage was always the most potent. I sat up
straighter and put the origami flower down. Giorgia had
asked me to do them for her wedding as table decorations
for their wedding gift. “If wanting to help my husband
makes me a fool, then I don’t mind being one.”
Samuel shook his head and squatted before me with a
look of intense frustration. “Do you realize how much
danger you were in?”
“I visited a mother who’s caught up in grief and
depression, not the enemy.”
“Grief can turn men into monsters.”
“Men, certainly. She’s a woman.”
Samuel glared. “This isn’t the time to be witty. What if
she’d decided to pay me back and hurt me by hurting or
killing you, Emma? Did you consider that?”
“Leo was with me. And killing me wouldn’t have hurt you
in a way she might desire. For her to have any chance of
getting even, she would have to kill someone you love, like
your mother or Sofia. Not me, because you don’t love me.”
The words ached, but I didn’t shy back from a hurtful truth. I
never had.
Samuel regarded me without saying anything.
“Right?” I whispered, and I wasn’t sure why I did it.
Samuel straightened and looked out over the lake. “I told
you she won’t forgive me.”
“She can’t because she would feel guilty. It isn’t even
about you anymore. It’s about her feeling obligated to stay
in the past and not move on like everyone else.”
“I want to move on, now more than ever, because of
you.” He looked me in the eyes, and the look in his made
my heart speed up. Samuel wasn’t a man for emotional
declarations, but this felt like one.
Giorgia was a stunning bride. Her sweetheart neckline
accentuated her showstopper cleavage, and her copper hair
contrasted beautifully with the white of her dress.
Renato’s expression was more than appreciative as he
took her in, and definitely not fit for church.
I rolled my eyes, annoyed. Samuel squeezed my hand,
and I slanted him a look. “Maybe she can get him in line,”
he said under his breath as the priest continued the
ceremony.
“Made Men can be extremely set in their ways.”
Samuel let out a low chuckle and raised my hand to his
lips to kiss my knuckles. The gesture, in public no less,
surprised me. “You would know all about it.”
“Indeed,” I whispered, then turned back to the front of
the church to watch Renato and Giorgia exchange their
vows. During the congratulations in front of the church, my
eyes briefly drifted to Fiorentino and his father. While the
boy gave me a brief smile, still thankful for my help, his
father pointedly ignored me. He was furious because my
“meddling” had led to his son being a part of the Outfit.
Afterward, we gathered in a massive ballroom in one of
the best hotels in Minneapolis. Giorgia’s mother had picked
it because of its sheer size, as she’d invited pretty much
everyone she knew.
“Giorgia was worried you’d be mad because their
wedding has more guests than ours,” I whispered. Because I
was Giorgia’s maid of honor and Samuel was Renato's best
manSamuel was Renato's best manSamuel was Renato's
best man, we shared a table with their families.
“A man who worries about losing face because his friend
has a bigger wedding has already lost.”
I smiled, pleased that Samuel shared my opinion.
“Let me guess: your mother was enraged about the
insolence.”
I giggled. “Of course. She’ll be offended for a while.”
Samuel shook his head with a wry smile and took a sip
from the champagne.
After dinner, Giorgia and Renato had their dance. I smiled
as I watched them, even if Giorgia’s red face told me her
husband had said something very naughty. I really hoped
she’d manage to rein him in.
When the dance floor opened for the rest of the guests,
Samuel rose from his chair and held his hand to me. “Will
you give me the honor of a dance?”
I bit my lip with a nod. I took his hand and followed along
until we reached the edge of the dance floor. This time, I
managed not to roll over Samuel’s feet.
“No bruised feet this time,” he said.
I flushed. “Did you have bruises? I didn’t pay attention to
your feet on our wedding night.”
“That’s right. You usually get distracted by the upper half
of my body.”
 My face grew hot. I looked around at the guests to see if
anyone had heard the comment, but the music was too
loud. “Samuel.”
He chuckled, obviously amused by my embarrassment.
“Don’t pretend you care about my feet.”
“They look good in heels, so I sometimes look at them,”
he said.
The song ended. I licked my lips. “Could we do a dance
with me in your arms like at our wedding?”
Samuel bent down and picked me up, then pushed the
wheelchair to the side with his foot. I wrapped my arms
around his neck, bringing us closer as he began to sway to
the music. Our gazes locked, and I smiled at how different
this dance felt compared to the one at our wedding. We had
been strangers back then, and now we weren’t.
I felt comfortable in Samuel’s arms, safe and at home,
and I realized this was the first social event where I had
thoroughly enjoyed myself.
“I’m really enjoying myself. You are like my personal
shield that keeps away the negative energy.”
Samuel’s lips twitched into a brief smile before the aloof
expression he usually had in public returned. “I’m glad you
feel that way. I want to shield you from all the darkness in
our world.”
I kissed his cheek, but he turned his head and pressed a
kiss to my lips. When this song ended, Samuel and I
returned to the table. Giorgia was there, talking to her
mother and new mother-in-law. She sent me a pleading
look. “Can I kidnap Giorgia for a moment?”
“Of course,” Giorgia’s mom said. Samuel leaned down to
me. “You leave me here with these two gossipmongers?”
“Sorry. I need you to shield me from their negativity,” I
teased.
“I feel tempted to spank you for this, but you’d enjoy it.”
My cheeks burst with heat, and I quickly followed Giorgia,
who sent me a questioning look. We crossed the room
toward the double doors.
Samuel too escaped the table, obviously not in the mood
to chat with the “gossipmongers.” His words about spanking
echoed in my mind.
“I’m not sure I want to know what goes on in your head,”
Giorgia said as we arrived in the empty hallway.
“Samuel just said something…” I shook my head with an
embarrassed smile.
“Everyone could see you two were into each other when
you danced. It was really sweet. I’m so happy that things
are working out for you.”
I took Giorgia’s hand. She was quieter and more
withdrawn than her usual perky self. “I hope you’ll find
happiness. Renato can count himself lucky to have you as
his wife.”
“Oh, he should definitely count himself lucky, but he only
thinks about ways he can get lucky tonight.” She rolled her
eyes.
I laughed. “Don’t make it too easy for him.”
“I won’t, trust me.”

The Miones had invited my mother, Danilo, and Sofia to

celebrate Christmas with us in their mansion. I was excited
to have my brother with me for the festivities. I’d never
celebrated Christmas without him and hoped it would stay
that way.
Danilo and Sofia stayed in a hotel around the corner from
the Mione mansion, not taking us up on our offer to sleep in
one of the guest rooms. Danilo probably wasn’t too keen on
being under the same roof as Samuel or Pietro.
 Samuel and I arrived at his parents’ late in the afternoon
on Christmas Eve. They also lived in the Lake of the Isles
neighborhood with a beautiful lake view. Their mansion was
built at the beginning of the 20th century and not newly built
like our home.
When Samuel and I entered the mansion’s entryway, my
eyes grew wide. Beside the old wooden staircase that led to
the first floor was a new elevator. It looked like an alien amid
the last century decor. I gaped at Ines and Pietro, then
peered up at Samuel. “Did you know?”
He nodded with a small smile. “The same elevator
company that did the one in our house installed this.”
I was incredibly touched by the gesture. I moved over to
Ines and took her hand. “You really didn’t have to do this.
This doesn’t match your house’s historic decor.”
Ines let out a small laugh. “We want you to feel at home
here, and that requires you to be able to access every part
of this mansion. Would you like to try it out?”
I nodded and pressed the button that opened the doors.
It was a tube-shaped elevator, with just enough room for my
wheelchair and another person. I rode to the first floor, then
back down again and grinned. “It’s perfect, thank you!”
The doorbell rang, and Pietro opened the door for Danilo,
Mom, and Sofia. They had just arrived today, so I hadn’t
seen them yet.
After greeting Ines and Pietro, Mom immediately came
toward Samuel and me. She gave him a dazzling smile
before she pulled him into an enthusiastic hug. Danilo gave
me a look that almost made me burst out laughing. After
hugging Mom, too, I moved toward Danilo to give Mom
some time to schmooze Samuel, as she seemed very intent
on doing. “At least Mom shows some enthusiasm about her
new family.”
Danilo bent down and hugged me. “If I hugged your
husband like that, he’d kick my ass. Neither of us are into
public displays of affection, and my affection is still limited
with him.”
I pursed my lips. “You should try to like him. He’s my
husband.”
“Is he a good one? Then I might consider it.”
“Are you a good husband?”
Danilo glanced at Sofia, who stood beside Ines with an
arm wrapped around her. Something in his gaze had
definitely changed since I’d last seen those two, and when
she looked back at him, I realized the same could be said for
her eyes. “I think you’re doing better.”
Danilo sent me a stern look, but I merely smiled. Samuel
came to my side, probably worried Danilo was asking too
many questions about him.
We finally moved into the living room, where a huge real
fir illuminated the room with dozens of real candles on its
branches. Dinner was delicious, but I was utterly stuffed
after four courses. Danilo and Sofia excused themselves for
a short walk along the lake while Ines went upstairs to look
for the photo albums she wanted to show us. Pietro
disappeared into their wine cellar to look for a special drink
for the occasion.
Samuel and I went out into the garden to enjoy some
fresh air and solitude. I sucked in a deep breath. It was
bitterly cold outside. Samuel shrugged out of his jacket and
draped it over me.
“Your brother is practically undressing my sister with his
eyes,” Samuel muttered as he released my shoulders after a
moment.
I stifled laughter. “Sofia did the same, you know?” It had
been quite embarrassing and endearing at the same time. I
hoped I never looked at Samuel like that, considering I felt
the same strong pull toward him that Sofia felt toward my
brother. I tried not to think about it too much.
Samuel looked as if he’d chewed something very bitter. “I
feel very tempted to leer at you the remainder of the
evening just to spite Danilo.”
I laughed. “That’s horrible and childish.” I pursed my lips.
“And I don’t want you to leer at me for any other reason
than because you feel like it.”
Samuel cupped my chin and tilted my head up, then
braced himself on my wheelchair with his other hand,
bringing our faces very close together. “Trust me, Emma, I
always want to undress you with my eyes and my hands,
but unlike your brother, I have an ounce of decency and
won’t do it around my parents.”
I rolled my eyes. Danilo and Samuel were like cats and
dogs. Samuel pressed his lips against mine. “Especially
when you disrespect me like this, I want to kiss some sense
into you.”
I gave him a doubtful look, though I had to admit that his
kisses definitely wreaked havoc on my senses. He deepened
the kiss, his tongue demanding as it teased me. I knew
someone could come out at any moment, but I simply
couldn’t find the strength to end our kiss. Samuel tasted of
the red wine that he’d drunk, tart with a hint of berries.
Soon, my skin was flushed, and my lap felt hot. Samuel got
down on his knees and pressed his face in my lap with a
groan. “I want nothing more than to eat you right here.”
I tugged at his hair. The pressure of his face against
where I ached for him and the additional heat almost drove
me insane. But we couldn’t do anything in his parents’
house. That would be uncouth, as Samuel would put it.
Samuel looked up, and I knew we’d be in trouble. “Don’t,” I
whispered, but it sounded half-hearted.
Samuel raised his brows. “Don’t what?” His low voice
sent a shiver down my back. He reached one hand under
my dress, stroking along the lacy top of my stockings before
he pushed two fingers into my panties, finding me damp.
His eyes challenged me. “Don’t what?”
The alcohol had definitely lowered his inhibitions. I
wished I had the same excuse, but my body simply ached
for his touch.
Steps sounded. My eyes widened in anxiety. Samuel
quickly extracted his fingers from under my skirt, pushed
them into his mouth to lick them clean, and straightened
just when Ines appeared behind the window and raised four
thick photo albums with a delighted expression on her face.
I quickly excused myself to the bathroom to freshen up
before I returned to the living room. Danilo, Samuel, and
Pietro were already tasting some expensive port.
Samuel’s eyes locked on mine, and a new wave of heat
rushed through my body. I tore my gaze away as I moved
toward Sofia and Ines, who sat at the coffee table with one
of the photo albums open in front of them.
The men quickly excused themselves to Pietro’s office,
obviously not in the mood to take a stroll down memory
lane. It was quite late when Samuel decided it was time to
head home, and that was when the atmosphere became
uncomfortable.
“Can one of your men drive Sofia and me to our hotel?”
Danilo asked Pietro. “I don’t drink and drive since Emma’s
accident.”
Pietro nodded. “That seems wise.”
Danilo sent Samuel a hard look. “What about you? I’m
sure your father can also spare another man to drive you
home.”
Samuel narrowed his eyes at my brother.
“You could spend the night here,” Ines said with a
disarming smile at Samuel. “Then we could spend Christmas
morning together.”
We were invited for lunch anyway. “That sounds
wonderful,” I said quickly. I didn’t want to stab Samuel in the
back by expressing my unease of having him drive us home
in his state. He didn’t have any outward signs of being
drunk, but I doubted the men had held back while they
chatted in Pietro’s office. Samuel was confident in his
abilities, but I didn’t want to tempt fate, not after my
accident.
“Your present is at our house,” Samuel said.
“We can exchange presents later. I don’t mind.”
Samuel looked into my eyes for a while, then gave a
terse nod. “Why not?”
Danilo gave me a small nod, obviously pleased with the
outcome. I sent him a warning look. A comment from him
might provoke Samuel again.
When Samuel and I lay in bed a short while later in the
dark, he murmured, “You trust your brother’s judgment
more than mine.”
I tensed. He was pressed up behind my back, and in the
dark, I wouldn’t have had a chance to make out his
expression anyway. “I trust you,” I said. “But I don’t trust the
alcohol, especially not when it comes to driving. A drunk
driver almost killed me, Samuel.”
“I know,” Samuel rumbled, then pressed a kiss to my
neck. “That’s why I agreed to spend the night here.”

When I entered the ballet studio in my tutu, I immediately

relaxed despite my previous tension. Samuel and I had had
an argument in the morning because I’d found him in his
office again. He had fallen asleep at his desk with a half-
empty bottle of liquor beside him. For the first couple of
weeks after Christmas, it had seemed like he was drinking
much less, but maybe he’d simply gotten better at hiding it
from me. The thought worried me tremendously. I touched
the gold necklace of an origami crane that Samuel had
given me for Christmas and took a deep breath.
 Dancing had become my new reprieve. In the past, it had
been a source of pressure and anxiety for me, so I’d never
missed it as much as I thought I would, but now freed of
expectations, I had rediscovered my love for ballet.
Our dance teacher and Albert were already there and
caught up in a conversation. Leo sank down on the bench in
the hallway, right in front of the door to the studio as he’d
done the last few times. By now, everyone had grown used
to him being there, and I didn’t feel like an alien among
them anymore.
Albert smiled when he spotted me and waved me over to
him and Natalya. “Natalya and I think we should try a lifting
figure today. You are a natural, and it would be amazing.”
My eyes grew wide with surprise. In the past, lifts had
always been my favorite, giving me a sense of freedom.
“What do you think?” Natalya asked, pushing one hand
into her waist, her fingers tapping against her belly.
Usually, I would have said no. A lift always meant more
closeness than other dance figures, and I had a feeling
Samuel wouldn’t like that, considering his jealous reactions
before. For a Made Man, jealousy was a matter of outward
appearances and showing their dominance, not love. But
Albert was so obviously not interested in me and women in
general that I doubted even the most possessive man would
find fault in a lifting figure. “Uhhh. We could try.”
“Wonderful!” Albert touched my shoulder, looking giddy
like a child. I stifled a smile at his excitement. It was obvious
that ballet was his absolute passion. The other dancers filed
in, greeting me with honest smiles. I was so glad that I had
found a place among them despite my notorious
background.
Natalya clapped her hands. “Time to begin. Today, we’re
working on a few new moves.”
After a warm-up, Natalya explained to everyone what she
expected of them. I was nervous about our lift as it required
me to push halfway out of my wheelchair in a fluid motion
so Albert could pick me up, then raise me and twirl me
around.
The first take went completely wrong. I pushed up too
quickly, and Albert couldn’t grab my waist properly, so I
plopped back into the wheelchair with enough force to make
it shake violently.
Leo rose from the bench, but I quickly shook my head.
Even if I fell, that was part of the process. I didn’t want him
to intervene and remind my fellow dancers of my otherness.
“I’m sorry,” Albert spluttered, his face turning red under
my bodyguard’s foreboding scrutiny. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
In the mafia world, I was different because of my
wheelchair. Here, among fellow dancers with disabilities, I
was different because of my background. I simply wanted to
belong. Danilo had made me feel that way in the past, and
on occasion, when I managed to break through Samuel’s
cold shield, especially when we were intimate, he made me
feel that way too. But now that he was building another
barrier between us because he wanted to hide his alcohol
consumption from me, I feared growing closer emotionally
was a fight against windmills.
“Ready to try again?” Natalya asked.
I nodded. The timing was better this time, and Albert
lifted me out of my wheelchair. I raised my arms over my
head and tried to tense my legs as much as I could so my
feet were pointy. Most lifting figures required tension in your
legs and feet, so we had to modify them to work with my
body’s abilities. Albert, too, couldn’t keep me up as long
because of his stiff leg.
I grinned when Albert put me down in my wheelchair
again. We tried the figure a few more times before we were
confident enough to add it to our dance routine.
After our first completed routine, I couldn’t stop smiling,
even as I felt out of breath. My body had to grow used to
this level of exertion again, but I could already tell it was
improving my overall posture.
“Oh,” Albert gasped at the same time as a hush fell over
my fellow dancers. I followed their gazes toward the door,
and my eyes grew wide in surprise. Samuel stood in the
doorway.
“Dammit. I’ve never been into bad boys, but your
husband could change my mind,” Albert whispered under
his breath.
I couldn’t stop the laugh from bursting out of me.
Samuel’s intent, cool gaze slid from Albert to me. Albert
sobered and quickly excused himself, putting some distance
between us.
Natalya touched my shoulder. “I suppose you have to
leave now.”
I nodded. I hadn’t known that Samuel would pick me up,
but I could tell he wanted me to come with him.
“I hope to one day find someone who looks at me the
way he looked at you while you danced,” Natalya said.
“That kind of adoration is rare.”
I frowned. I wasn’t sure what she saw, but knowing
Samuel, I simply couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to
feel that kind of emotion in public.
I moved over to him. “I didn’t know you were coming,” I
said with a small smile.
“I should have come sooner,” he said simply, his gaze
moving to Albert once more.
“He’s gay, okay? And he’s very nice,” I said quickly.
Samuel gave me a small smile. “I know he’s gay. I had
my men do a background check on everyone.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised. “He finds you very
attractive. He said you could make him fall for the bad-boy
type.”
Samuel touched my shoulder and gently steered me out
into the hallway. His brows drew together. “Then he’s not so
different from some women who fancy the bad boy in bed
because they don’t know the baggage that comes with this
life.”
He grabbed my gym bag from the locker room, then
opened the front door for me.
“I should change clothes,” I said, confused.
Samuel shook his head. He pushed me down the ramp to
his car parked right outside and lifted me out of the
wheelchair. “Stay as you are.”
The look in his eyes and the low timbre of his words
melted my insides. I blushed when I realized what Samuel
had in mind.
“Does my ballet attire turn you on?” I asked with a
teasing smile when Samuel didn’t put me down in the seat
right away.
He lowered me into the seat but stayed bent over me.
His eyes were practically devouring me whole. “You always
turn me on, but right now, all I can think about is to claim
your pussy in that tutu you’re wearing.” His lips claimed
mine for a fierce kiss before he straightened and closed the
door. The taste of whisky lingered on my lips from his kiss.
My belly tightened with apprehension, but I didn’t want
to say anything and cause a repeat performance of the fight
in the morning.
Samuel started the car the moment he was behind the
wheel and raced away.
He took my hand as he drove us home. My body already
rang with desire. It was still early, much earlier than
Samuel’s usual time to return home from work.
The moment we pulled up in front of the house, Samuel
shoved open the door and raced around the hood. He picked
me up and carried me inside, then kicked the front door
shut. Instead of carrying me upstairs, he turned and pressed
my back against the door, then kissed me hard. He ground
his cock between my legs, showing me how much I turned
him on. I gasped into his mouth, delirious from his touch and
his obvious hunger for me. He dry humped me as we kissed
almost desperately. I could feel myself getting closer and
closer. Samuel straightened suddenly and stumbled into his
office with me in his arms. He set me on his desk, then
swiped all the folders and sheets off the surface with one
sweeping motion. I laughed, feeling almost lightheaded with
desire. He pushed me down until I splayed on his desk, my
legs spread because he stood between them.
His eyes raked over me. “Fuck.” He knelt and pushed up
my skirt, then kissed my pussy through my leotard. I wasn’t
wearing tights, only blush-colored ballet ankle warmers
because it was always very warm in the studio. The leotard
was quite tight and not easy to move to the side. Samuel let
out a growl as he tried to push it to the side to eat me.
“I’ll have to pull it down,” I whispered between giggles
and moans.
“No time,” he growled and unsheathed a knife from his
chest. He cut through the fabric of my leotard and panties.
“Samuel!” I gasped in shock, but his mouth pressed
against my pussy, and I lost the ability to speak.
I came not long after but never got time to catch my
breath because Samuel ripped down his zipper and pulled
out his cock. He gripped my hips and looked at me full of
hunger and possessiveness as he pushed into me in one
hard thrust.
His eyes fell shut, and I released a long moan at the
stretched sensation. I could feel every nerve ending in my
pussy. Samuel opened his eyes and surprised me when he
bent forward and cupped my head, his thumbs stroking
along my temple gently. He slid out of me gradually, only to
glide back in even slower. His eyes locked on mine as he
moved unhurriedly, his lips close but not touching mine. I
couldn’t look away. This felt more intimate than ever before,
as if Samuel was trying to convey something with his eyes.
I remembered Natalya’s words and wondered if she’d
really seen what she described. If Samuel felt more for me
than he could admit. “You are amazing,” he rasped as he
made love to me.
God, this felt like making love. Was it?
Could this really be love?

Emma searched my eyes, hoping to find proof of deeper

feelings in them. Fuck, and I was so tired of hiding my
feelings, so fucking tired of keeping her at arms’ length
when I wanted her close, closer than I’d ever wanted
someone.
I wanted to protect her, but she was already too deeply
involved in my problems as it was. And so for the first time
since I’d married Emma, and the first time in a very long
time, I lowered my guard and allowed someone to see
beyond my cold mask. I allowed Emma to see what I felt for
her. Emotions I couldn’t put into words yet. Sometimes I
wanted to have her as close as possible, and sometimes,
particularly when she commented about my drinking, I
wanted to push her far away.
Tears welled in her eyes, and her breathing hitched. She
opened her mouth to say what I couldn’t say because her
eyes had screamed her feelings for me for a while. I kissed
her to silence her, then murmured. “No words, Emma. Not
now, not yet. Let me be the first to say them. Soon, I’ll be
ready.”
She nodded and swallowed hard.
“Until then, let me show you what I feel.”
I made love to Emma until we both found release, then I
sat back in my desk chair and pulled her on my lap.
She snuggled against me and touched my heart. “I’m
glad you finally trust me enough.”
I brushed her hair away from her face. “It’s not a matter
of trusting you. I simply want to protect you from certain
aspects of me.”
Emma sat up. “Samuel, I’m not blind. I’m not stupid. I
know you’re struggling, and it doesn’t lessen my feelings for
you. You’re human. It’s okay not to always be okay.”
I cupped her cheek. “I’ll be Underboss soon. The men I’ll
rule over don’t want their leader to be human, Emma. They
want someone who appears bigger than life, someone who
makes them believe he’s worth dying for. I’m a symbol, and
that symbol can’t have cracks. I’m not the only one with a
dark past or problems, but I’ll have to make sure nobody
knows.”
She pursed her lips. “I know your men expect you to be
strong, but emotions don’t make you weak. Even Dante
showed emotions after his first wife died. He was in
mourning.”
“For a short while and it never stopped him from being
cruelly effective in his job. I lost friends and a twin. That’s
not the same as losing a wife.”
She sighed. “I understand being strong for your men, but
I’m your wife. I swore to be by your side in good and in bad
times, so let me be there for you.”
I brushed a strand from her sweaty forehead. “It’s my job
to protect you.”
Her expression darkened. “Yes, and it’s my job to take
care of you. Let me help you. Don’t push me away, don’t
keep me out. That hurts me more than your problems ever
could.”
I kissed her. “I’ll try. I’m used to keeping people out, so
this will be new for me.”
She smiled slightly. “That’s okay. I’ll hold you
accountable, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Maybe it would be a good start to talk about your
drinking.”
I tensed, my defensive walls jumping into place. “I drink
often. You’re right.”
“Every day,” Emma said quietly.
I gritted my teeth. “How would you know?”
“Because I can smell it on you, Samuel. I thought you
wanted to confide in me?”
I sighed, not liking feeling cornered like that. I felt the
strong desire to lock her out again and raise my protective
walls. “I don’t keep track, but you could be right. I have
been drinking a bit more than I should in recent months.”
Emma nodded, her eyes soft and understanding.
“Alcohol kept me company and listened when I couldn’t
open up to anyone else. Now that I have you to confide in,
that won’t be an issue anymore.”
Emma gave me a small, hopeful smile, but I could tell she
wasn’t quite convinced. Neither was I, but I had survived
torture and several attempts on my life. Alcohol really
wasn’t an opponent I was worried about.
“My father asked me about children today,” I said. “After
the thing with Serafina, he’s always concerned something
could happen to me too. I suppose he needs to make sure
our bloodline continues.”
Emma regarded me with wide eyes. “Okay.” She tilted
her head curiously. “Your mom got really emotional over
photos of you, Serafina, and Sofia as babies. Maybe that’s
why he feels like grandchildren would be good, to cheer up
your mom, you know?”
 I nodded. “She’s made peace with having lost Serafina,
but sometimes it catches up with her again. That’s why I
knew it was a bad idea to look at those photos. Are you still
against kids?”
She frowned. “I was never against having kids, Samuel.
I’m just worried. Do you want children now because it’s
expected of us?”
I sighed. Of course, it was expected of us. “It’s expected,
but that’s not why I want children.”
“Then why do you want them?”
“Family is the only place in our world where you can
really be yourself.”
Emma bit her lip, her eyes warm and loving. “I know.
With you, I don’t feel different. I just feel like me because
you only see me.”
I cupped her cheeks. “I feel the same with you.” I knew I
still wasn’t the epitome of emotionally available, but I
wanted to let Emma in.
“I want children. I have always dreamed of having my
own family one day. For a long time, I didn’t dare dream it
could become a reality,” Emma whispered. She searched my
eyes. “Do you want them now?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t sure if it was the right time for kids
yet, but would there ever be a right time? Getting Emma
pregnant would definitely get some people off our backs,
and maybe it would help me focus on the present and not
let the past catch up with me so often. Perhaps it would help
get a better handle on my drinking habits too. Emma was
right. They had become a little erratic over time.
“I think you should stop taking the pill, and we should let
fate decide if we’re ready for kids.”
Emma blew out a breath, her eyes nervous. “Okay. I only
have five more pills, and I won’t start the new prescription
after that.”
I wrapped my arms around her tightly, my heart speeding
up. I knew this was a monumental step that would change
everything, even more than a marriage had.
“Can you try to drink less if we do this? Not during the
day and maybe not every day?” Her face filled with anxiety
over my reaction, and my first instinct was to get angry
because I didn’t want anyone to tell me what to do, but in
this case, I understood Emma’s reasoning.
“I’ll drink less, don’t worry.”
Emma was concerned I had lost control over my drinking,
but I would show her that I never relinquished control.
For our first wedding anniversary, Samuel and I decided to
head out to the Mione lake lodge about two hours outside of
Minneapolis. I had never been there, only at the Cavallaro
lodge, but that had been years ago.
The wooden lodge sat tight on the edge of the lake
without any other houses in sight. Across the lake, I spotted
another similar lodge, but apart from that, the location
provided solitude.
I was equally excited and nervous about our trip. My
period was overdue by five days, but I hadn’t dared take a
test yet. The last two times I’d been overdue by a day and
tested, the result had been negative. I didn’t want to get my
hopes up again. Samuel and I had been only trying for six
months, so I knew it was still early, and I couldn’t expect to
become pregnant right away. I had packed three pregnancy
tests but wasn’t sure if I should really take them. If they
were negative, that would overshadow our trip, and I really
wanted to enjoy our anniversary.
“You’re very quiet,” Samuel said as he helped me into my
wheelchair. A ramp led up to the porch that went around the
house.
I smiled at him. “That’s usually your part.”
He chuckled. “It is, which is why I notice when you don’t
talk to me.”
“I’m fine, really. Just thinking about the upcoming
fundraiser I’m organizing with Priest Agnello.”
Samuel checked our surroundings with a vigilant
expression, then keyed in the code so the door of the lodge
opened. “Let me know if you need additional help or if it
would help if I showed my face at the fundraiser. I want you
to succeed.”
I moved inside. “Your face always convinces people to do
things.”
Samuel chuckled as he turned and headed toward our
car to grab our bags. It smelled freshly cleaned, and a huge
bouquet of white-and-blush-colored roses sat on the big
kitchen island. A similar bouquet had waited for me this
morning on the dining room table, but we hadn’t exchanged
gifts yet and would do it after dinner. I smiled as I scanned
the big window front overlooking the lake. Samuel came in
with our luggage and carried it into the only bedroom on the
lower floor. Next, he carried in a cooler with the meat and
fish he wanted to put on the barbecue for us tonight and
tomorrow. I loved this down-to-earth side of Samuel. He’d
hunted the meat himself a few months ago during a trip
with his dad. Whenever he barbecued meat, he seemed the
most relaxed.
A few bottles of red wine sat on the kitchen counter, and
in the fridge, I found my favorite white wine, a Pecorino, my
favorite Italian grape at the moment. Samuel probably
expected that we’d have a glass of wine tonight for dinner.
 I bit my lip. I couldn’t drink until I knew I wasn’t pregnant.
Maybe Samuel would suspect something if I didn’t drink
anything on our anniversary, even if I’d reduced my intake
in the past few months very drastically because of our wish
to have a baby.
Samuel too had reduced his alcohol consumption at
home, but I wasn’t sure if he simply drank more when he
was at work. He often smelled of spearmint chewing gum
when he came home. I wanted to believe him, but I knew
addiction was a difficult opponent, even if Samuel seemed
reluctant to see his alcohol consumption as problematic.
I decided not to take the test right away. I wanted to
enjoy the evening without disappointment. Samuel began to
prepare the deer steaks and scallops for our main course of
surf and turf, while I took care of the creamy polenta and
salad that would go with it. For dessert, Samuel and I
decided to enjoy the macarons that Anna had sent us from
Paris as a gift.
Samuel and I had dinner on the porch in the candlelight.
It was warm enough, and the serenity of the lake was
marvelous. When Samuel offered me a glass of wine, I
shook my head. “I feel tired from the drive. If I drink now, I’ll
just fall asleep, and I don’t want that on our anniversary.”
“I don’t want that either,” Samuel said with a suggestive
smile as he took a sip from his wine.
After dinner, we settled on the hammock facing the lake,
and I indulged in the macarons while Samuel enjoyed a
digestif. I tried not to pay attention to how much he was
drinking because I didn’t want it to overshadow our trip. We
linked hands and sat in silence, my head on Samuel’s
shoulder, for over an hour. I loved these moments of
peaceful quiet when neither of us felt the need for idle
chitchat.
“How about we exchange gifts now?” Samuel asked as he
pulled a small box from behind his back.
“Let me get mine,” I said.
 Samuel got up. “Let me. Where is it?”
“On the kitchen island.”
He returned a couple of minutes later with the long,
narrow package.
“You first,” I said.
Samuel opened his gift, and his eyes lit up with awe. I
bought a custom-made hunting knife for Samuel with a
mammoth tooth for the handle and Samuel’s initials carved
into it. “This is beautiful. I’ll take it with me for the hunting
trip with your brother, Leonas, and my dad.”
I smiled, glad he loved it.
Samuel bent forward and kissed me. “This is the best gift
I ever got.”
He held the small box out to me. “Your turn.”
I took the box and unwrapped it, then opened it. My lips
parted. It was a delicate gold bracelet with a ballet shoe
pendant studded with small diamonds. Samuel helped me
put it on. “It’s beautiful.” I leaned forward and kissed
Samuel.
Our kisses quickly became heated. Samuel got down on
his knees in front of me, lifted my skirt, and ate me out. I
raked my fingers through his hair as his tongue and lips
teased me to my first orgasm with a beautiful view of the
dark lake.
I was still panting when Samuel picked me up and carried
me inside. He kicked down a few cushions and blankets,
then put me down on the floor in front of the big window
before he got out of his clothes and covered my body with
his. He held my gaze as he entered me slowly and didn’t
speed up as he kissed me.
This felt like making love again. Sometimes Samuel and I
were hungry and urgent, and that was when we fucked, but
sometimes our touches were loaded with emotions that
Samuel never put into words, and I didn’t either because he
wanted to be the first.
 Afterward, Samuel stayed in me, my face cradled in his
palms. The look in his eyes made my throat feel tight. “It’s
hard for me to put words to my feelings. Loving someone
gives them power over you.”
I ran my hands through his hair. I supposed with his
experience of betrayal from when his twin ran away with
Remo Falcone, love really seemed like a risk.
“Do you think your feelings will become stronger if you
admit to them?” I asked softly.
“No,” Samuel murmured. “I don’t think they can.”
I bit my lip. I wanted to say it, wanted to show Samuel
that sometimes it took a leap of faith. Samuel touched my
lips. “Me first.”
I waited, and he lowered his head and brushed his lips
over my ear. “I love you, Emma.”
I swallowed thickly before I whispered, “I love you,
Samuel.”
Samuel buried his face in my neck, and for a while,
neither of us said anything. My body had felt tired before,
but now I doubted I could fall asleep anytime soon.
After a while, I needed to pee, so I wiggled. “I need to go
to the bathroom.”
Samuel pushed up with a groan and plopped back on his
back. I cocked my eyebrow. With a grin, he pushed to his
feet and got my wheelchair from the porch.
Once I was in the bathroom, I hesitated. Maybe now was
the time to be brave. I opened my toilet bag and pulled out
a pregnancy test.
After I’d peed on it, I put it down on the counter and
waited.
“Emma? You’ve been in there for a while. Are you okay?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s not locked. You can come in.”
Samuel opened the door and peered in cautiously. He
scanned me, then his eyes landed on the pregnancy test on
the counter. His eyes widened. “Are you?”
“I don’t know. I’m overdue.”
 Samuel moved closer, almost cautiously, and touched my
shoulder.
“I’m scared it’s negative.”
“We haven’t been trying for long,” he said.
“I know, but this time, it really feels like I’m pregnant,
and I know I’ll be disappointed if I’m not.”
I glanced at my watch. It was time. I picked up the
pregnancy test, and my face burst into a smile.
Pregnant.

My heart hammered in my chest when Emma picked up the

test. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. I had absolutely no
clue about pregnancy tests. The only time I’d witnessed
someone taking a test had been with Serafina, but back
then, I’d been so shocked that I hadn’t paid attention at all.
“I’m pregnant,” Emma whispered, tears filling her eyes.
I blew out the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding.
I stared down at the test, then back at Emma’s stunned
face.
“Are you happy?”
I nodded and bent down, kissing her cheek and lips. “I
am. I’m also a little shocked. I don’t know why.”
 I felt a million things all at once. We had been trying for
months, but this was the first time it really sank in. We’d
become parents. I’d become a father with a whole new set
of responsibilities and another person, a small baby, to
protect.
“I am too. Shocked, I mean, and happy and scared.
Maybe even terrified.” I pulled back a little and looked at
Emma’s widened eyes. “Are we ready to become parents?”
I chuckled. “I think we have to be.”
Emma nodded, then looked back down at the test. “Oh
wow.” On the one hand, seeing Emma’s shock and
nervousness was consoling, but on the other hand, it made
me realize that we’d both be thrown into this.
I took her hand and kissed it. “You’ll be a great mom. You
love to take care of people.”
“I thought you didn’t like it when I mothered you,” Emma
said with a teasing smile.
“Sometimes I don’t, and sometimes I do, but I’m sure a
baby will love it.”
She giggled, then shook her head again. I picked her up
and carried her into the bedroom. After laying her on the
mattress, I stretched out beside her, pulling her close.
In many regards, I would have to do even better in the
future. Emma needed me now more than ever. I hadn’t been
completely honest with her regarding my alcohol
consumption. I had tried to drink far less, but it had proven
challenging, so I’d mostly drunk at work or at night when
Emma had been asleep.
Now that she had to take care of the baby growing inside
her, I could confide in her even less. I didn’t want her to
worry. This was my personal battle, and I was determined to
win.
Admitting to addiction meant weakness in the eyes of a
Made Man. It made me furious. This was simple physics.
Even if they considered themselves stronger than other
people, they were still bound to nature’s laws, and their
bodies craved whatever drug they were addicted to. Maybe
their strength made it easier for them to resist, but perhaps
it made it harder because they never sought help.
Seeing Samuel struggle with his demons alone, thinking
he needed to do it alone, broke my heart. I wanted to help
him, but I wasn’t sure how. Should I set an ultimatum?
Should I put a virtual barrel to his head?
I touched my bump. I needed to do something for our
baby’s sake. For Samuel’s sake. For our family’s sake.
Maybe I had been foolish to think that my pregnancy
would give Samuel the push he needed to stop drinking, but
it had only made him more secretive when it came to his
consumption. Maybe he thought I didn’t notice how often he
snuck down to his office at night or how he had an array of
chewing gum and even mouthwash in his car and probably
his office. But his office was always locked nowadays. I
hadn’t cornered him about it yet, still foolishly hoping things
would solve themselves.
In December, I finally gathered my courage. There were
only three more months until my due date, and I knew time
was running out if we wanted to tackle Samuel’s problem
before that.
Samuel and I had dinner together like every evening.
Samuel had his usual glass of wine, never more, at least not
in my presence, but I’d smelled the hint of alcohol on him
when he’d returned earlier. My sense of smell had improved
over the course of my pregnancy, so it was almost
impossible to keep something like that from me.
“I know you’re drinking when you’re not home,” I said
quietly.
Samuel’s expression darkened. “Emma—”
“What if you’re intoxicated when I go into labor?”
His gaze slid down to my prominent bump. “I could still
drive you, and I’ll stop drinking once your due date is close.”
Did he really think it was as easy as that? That he could
just decide when to stop?
“What if the baby comes early? Or what if it comes many
days after the due date? Can you stay away from drinking
for weeks? Do you really think it works like that?”
“I’m not an alcoholic, Emma. I like a drink or two,
especially on stressful days, but that doesn’t mean I have a
problem.”
So that’s where we were at? Back to complete denial? I
wasn’t sure what to do. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t leave
him, not just because our world didn’t allow it but because
my heart simply forbade it. I didn’t want to leave Samuel
alone. I wanted to be his anchor.
“Your friends fought for you. And you lived. Honor them
by allowing yourself to live fully. Do it for us and our baby.”
 I hoped my speech had gotten through to him. I wasn’t
sure what else to do at this point. He thought he was in
control. He thought admitting he wasn’t would make him
weak.
I never saw Samuel drink a single drop in the following
weeks, but my intuition told me he was hiding it from me.
I needed to know for sure.
So when Danilo and Sofia came to visit us for Christmas, I
approached my brother.
“Can you teach me how to pick a lock?” I asked casually.
Danilo gave me a worried look. “Why?”
“Because it could come in handy one day. Children
sometimes lock themselves in. I want to be able to open a
locked door.”
Danilo’s suspicion remained. “Why didn’t you ask
Samuel?”
I was treading dangerous ground. I trusted my brother,
but he and Samuel weren’t friends. They were civil toward
each other, and their relationship had improved since their
hunting trip, but they definitely didn’t go out of their way to
spend time with each other. If I revealed Samuel’s alcohol
problem to Danilo, Samuel might see it as betrayal, and it
probably was. Still, I wished I could talk to someone about it.
It was a heavy truth to carry.
Eventually, Danilo showed me how to pick a lock with a
professional pick, and he even gave it to me. I wondered if
he had his suspicions.
Later, after dinner, which Samuel missed because of
work, according to him, he cornered me. “Is Samuel keeping
any secrets from you?”
I gave him an amused look. “All Made Men are, right?”
“There are secrets that need to be kept and secrets that
don’t.”
“Perhaps.”
“Are you worried he’s cheating on you?”
 My eyebrows shot up. That was his first thought? “No,” I
said without a hint of a doubt. “Samuel has made his stance
on that matter clear from the very beginning.”
Danilo made a doubtful face.
“That’s not what’s going on, Danilo. Please trust my
judgment.” I really didn’t need Danilo to cause any
problems. Samuel was already pissed because I had said he
had an addiction.
“I do. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know,” I said and pecked his cheek.
I was glad when Sofia and Danilo finally left for their
hotel, even if I’d enjoyed their presence. I was too eager to
try out my new skills. Despite my guilt over breaking into
Samuel’s office and thus breaching his privacy, I saw no
other way. I trusted my gut on this, and it told me that
Samuel was keeping his drinking from me. I needed to know
this for a fact to make up my mind about what to do next.
After three tries, I managed to unlock Samuel’s office
door and walked inside. The smell of alcohol hit me
immediately. I rounded the desk and found an empty
bourbon bottle beside the desk chair. When I opened the
drawers, I found several more bottles of whisky, bourbon,
cognac, and wine, most of them almost empty. None of
these bottles were cheap. Maybe Samuel thought there
weren’t any sophisticated drunks and tried to deceive
himself into thinking he was in control. As if alcoholism only
manifested in the form of cheap liquor. I swallowed hard.
Maybe I should have waited inside the office and confronted
Samuel, but I couldn’t bear being in the room where Samuel
had hidden his secret. I locked the door again and moved
into the living room.
I felt disheartened and at a loss. What could I do?
Samuel was a man of great pride and honor. How could I
get through to him? I knew I needed to do something. I
couldn’t let things progress as they were.
 Eventually, Samuel would get himself killed either
through the alcohol or because he couldn’t function in a
dangerous situation.
It was not just Samuel’s life that was at stake. Our life as
a family too.
When Samuel finally came home close to midnight, I had
come up with what to say, a convincing speech, but one
look at his face told me he’d had a bad day. And I knew
what that meant.
My smile was tight when he came toward me and kissed
me. I smelled spearmint on his breath. His habit of chewing
bubble gum during the day had set off my alarm bells, and
today, my fears were proven right. In the beginning, I had
even tried to convince myself that it was an innocent new
habit to distract him from his desire to drink, but I knew
deep down that it wasn’t to take the place of one addiction
but to cover up one.
One look into his eyes told me he had drunk quite a bit.
Far more than the days before. If he weren’t such a trained
drinker, he probably would have had a slur and trouble
walking, but as it was only the less controlled way of his
mimic and the look in his eyes revealed the truth.
“How was your day?”
“I visited the graveyard today. It was meant as a final
goodbye. Now that we’ll be parents soon, I thought it was
time to let the past rest.”
Ah, so he wanted to dull his pain with alcohol. My heart
ached for his anguish, but at the same time, I felt angry, so
very angry because he lied to me, because he was forcing
me closer to a decision I didn’t want to make.
I loved Samuel. I loved him so much, but I was at a
crossroads, and only one road allowed me to stay with him.
Could I really give him an ultimatum like that?
Could I not? Could I let our baby be born into a household
with an alcoholic father? What if he lost control because of it
one day? I didn’t believe it, but wouldn’t it be negligent of
me not to think about it?
Samuel cleared his throat and ran a hand through his
hair, squinting toward his office door. “I need to work for a
couple more hours. Maybe you should go to bed.”
I pressed my lips together. “I think you should come to
bed with me.” My eyes pleaded with him to follow me. Don’t
force me to make a choice my heart won’t survive.
Samuel shook his head. “I really need to work. Things will
calm down again soon.”
Another lie. This wasn’t about work. He would drink while
locked in his office.
I followed Samuel into the hallway and watched him head
for his office door. When he stopped in front of it, his eyes
settled on the lock. He smoothed a finger over it. Had I left
scratches in the metal?
This was my chance to say something.
He dropped his finger and reached for his key. “This is for
your safety,” he said.
I didn’t say anything. Nothing about locking that door
was for my safety. Rage bubbled up in me. He met my gaze.
His lies met mine. Neither of us said anything for a couple of
heartbeats. “Sleep tight.”
I nodded and turned around, then wheeled toward the
elevator without looking back.
Tears prickled in my eyes, but I fought them.
It took more than an hour for me to fall asleep, but my
sleep was fitful, and eventually, I woke up. At first, I wasn’t
sure why, but then I realized my nightgown was wet. I froze.
My first thought was that I had wet myself. In the very
beginning, after my accident, that had happened on
occasion, but that was years ago. I turned on the lights, and
panic filled me. I was bleeding. For several heartbeats, I
couldn’t do anything but stare, filled with terror. I touched
my belly as my pulse raced in my veins.
 I grabbed my phone and called Samuel. The phone rang
several times before he finally picked up. “What’s wrong,
Emma?”
His voice was rough, not slurred but definitely more
drawn out than usual. My heart sank.
“I’m bleeding.”
“What? I’m coming up.”
I moved toward the edge of the bed, trying not to panic.
With an anterior placenta like mine, bleeding wasn’t entirely
uncommon. My doctor had warned me that this could
happen.
Samuel staggered into the bedroom, his hair disheveled,
his trousers and shirt wrinkled as if he’d slept on the floor.
Remembering how I’d found him once at the beginning of
our marriage, I knew this wasn’t completely unlikely.
Samuel came toward me, his eyes taking in my bloody
nightgown. “I’ll take you to the hospital.” When he bent over
me to pick me up, a wave of alcohol hit me. I scrunched up
my nose. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m fine. I just had a glass of brandy to wind down.”
“You’re drunk, Samuel. Call Danilo. He can take me to the
hospital.”
Samuel’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m your husband. I’ll
take you. I’m in control.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting an onslaught of
emotions as he carried me down the stairs.
“Samuel—”
“I’m fine! We don’t need Danilo.”
I shook my head again. “You aren’t fine!”
His gait was steady despite the heavy note of alcohol on
his breath and the slightly feverish look in his eyes. Maybe
he could drive. But a warning voice in my head reminded
me of the past. Fear gripped me.
“Samuel—”
He put me down on the passenger seat and buckled me
up. “We’ll be quicker if I drive than if we wait for an
ambulance or for your brother to arrive. We need to get you
to a doctor as soon as possible.”
He was right but still…
I touched my belly, focusing on my baby.
Samuel got in the car and started the engine. My
stomach constricted. Hazy memories from a crash long ago
that changed my life resurfaced. My bodyguard had also
smelled of alcohol. It hadn’t been the first time he’d been
drunk on the job. I had noticed the stench before, but he’d
never had trouble driving before.
A vivid image of the car swerving to the side, of a truck
heading our way, and the lights blinding me shot through
my head. After that, everything was black. It was the
moment that changed my life forever.
I swallowed hard. My instincts screamed at me not to let
Samuel drive. But if I called Danilo or Pietro, they would
know something was wrong, and they’d figure out that
Samuel had a problem with alcohol.
I couldn’t betray Samuel like that. Right?
Samuel drove too fast.
I clutched the seat, fear clogging my throat. “Samuel,
slow down.”
“You need help,” he muttered.
He drove way too fast into a curve, and the car swerved
toward oncoming traffic. The headlights of a car blinded me.
I screamed, raw fear ripping the sound from the depths of
my body. Not again.
The car jerked to the side, barely missing the other car. I
was flung against the door, then we jolted to a stop.
Samuel breathed harshly.
“Emma? Emma, are you okay?”
I blinked, trying to breathe in and out as a myriad of
images I hadn’t remembered up until that point flooded my
mind. Being stuck in a wreck, my bodyguard trying to talk to
me, the acute pain in my head. Blood everywhere.
Samuel touched my shoulder. “Emma?”
 I unbuckled myself. We were on the side of the road,
parked at a bus stop. Samuel shook me slightly until my
eyes focused on him. “Emma, say something.”
He had a cut on his temple where he must have hit the
side of the car. Blood was trickling down his face.
The other car’s driver got out of his car and gestured
wildly at Samuel.
“I’m okay,” I pressed out.
Samuel nodded, then he grabbed his phone. “Dad, I need
you to pick Emma up quickly.”
An ambulance arrived before Pietro did. Samuel sat
silently beside me, ignoring the other driver who tried to
argue with him.
“I’m riding in the ambulance,” I told Samuel.
“I should come with you.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted that. I knew once the shock had
lessened, I’d be furious. Not just at Samuel but also at me
for getting into a car with a drunk driver. I should have
known better. He should have too. But he was in denial of
his problem, and I wasn’t.
Samuel regarded me. “Or I could drive there. I can’t leave
my car here.”
“You should ride with your dad,” I said as the paramedics
helped me onto the stretcher. I explained that the blood on
my nightgown wasn’t from the crash, but I wasn’t sure if
they believed me.
“It’s too dangerous for you to ride alone,” Samuel said
with a frown.
“Getting in a car with you was too dangerous.”
I swallowed hard, guilt burning a hot trail through my
insides. The disappointed and hurt look in Emma’s eyes
almost killed me. I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead
before I told the ambulance driver to be extra careful and
explained the consequences if he wasn’t.
Dad arrived when the ambulance pulled away.
I felt almost sober by now. I had definitely drunk a bit
more than I should have tonight. It had been a shitty day.
Dad touched my shoulder. “What happened?”
The usual lie lay on the tip of my tongue, but I was
fucking tired of lying. I’d put so much energy into deceiving
Emma…and she knew. “I drove drunk today and lost control
of the car.”
Dad frowned. “You should have called. Come on. I’ll drive
you to the hospital.”
I sank down in the passenger seat.
When I rubbed my face, it came away bloody.
I hadn’t even noticed I was injured. That was why the
paramedic wanted to take a look at me.
“Has this happened before?” Dad asked carefully.
“Me driving drunk?” I asked with a hint of dark humor.
“Yes.”
 “I don’t remember the last time I didn’t drink something,”
I confessed. It felt good to admit it, but at the same time,
shame crawled under my skin like cockroaches.
Dad slanted me a look. “Samuel?”
“I think Emma is going to leave me. I lied to her. I almost
killed her today.”
“Why didn’t you come to me sooner? I’m your father. You
can tell me anything.”
“Dad, I’m your heir. I’m a Made Man. A man should be
able to hold his liquor, right?”
Dad grimaced as he pulled into the parking lot of the
hospital. “That’s just something I said. It doesn’t mean you
should get drunk every day.”
“I’m not drinking to get drunk. I hardly ever get drunk
anymore. I just drink to function.” I laughed bitterly. How
was that for staying in control? Samuel Mione, the ice king,
losing control of his life and body. A shame. A fucking
disgrace.
“We’ll grab a coffee or two before we head to Emma. You
smell of alcohol. We need to get you sober before you see
her again.”
“I am sober. Or as sober as I can be.”
Dad grabbed my arm. “Dammit, Samuel. I lost Fina. I
won’t lose you.”
I nodded mutely. Fina.
“Is this because of her? Did you start drinking because of
her?”
“Because of the friends I killed. Because of my inability to
protect those I care about. Because I lost her to a madman.
The list is long, Dad. The funny thing is Emma makes me
happy. But I still drink.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t stop,” I admitted, then shook my head.
“Because of the guilt, because I’m scared to mess up and
get Emma or our baby killed. I almost did today.”
“You need to stop.”
 I nodded. I knew that. What if it was too late? What if I’d
already lost Emma?
I watched the young female doctor in trepidation as she did
the ultrasound. Samuel leaned against the wall next to me. I
had ignored his outstretched hand and hadn’t said a single
word since he’d entered the room five minutes ago. I
couldn’t bear his touch right now. I was too agitated. With
the doctor present, he couldn’t really say much either,
which was a relief.
My anxiety spiked to unbearable levels as the seconds
trickled by while the doctor checked on the baby when
suddenly a heartbeat sounded. I smiled, hope banishing my
acute fear.
“Is everything okay?” Samuel murmured as he
straightened, the cold mask on his face slipping for the first
time since he’d entered the room. His worry dulled my
anger briefly, but I reminded myself of the close call we’d
had today.
 The doctor nodded before she gave me a small smile. “I
can’t detect anything out of the ordinary. Your bleeding
could have been the result of a hematoma bursting. This
area”—she motioned at a darker area on the screen—“looks
like a burst hematoma to me.”
“And the crash?” I whispered. I hadn’t hit the side of the
car very hard, but I could feel a bruise blooming on my
upper arm.
Samuel crossed his arms in front of his chest, the tension
returning to his body.
“I don’t see any injuries. You don’t have a concussion
either. We have to wait on the examination of your arm to
see if it’s only bruised. But I think you were very lucky.”
Samuel met my gaze, the regret in his eyes melting
through my anger. I bit my lip. There would be time to talk
about all this later. My mind was still too chaotic. Samuel
pushed the hospital wheelchair closer to the bed, and I
lowered myself into it since we’d left mine at home. With my
growing belly, it wasn’t as easy as it used to be, but I didn’t
want Samuel’s help.
“Please proceed to your room for now. My colleague will
come to see you very soon.” The doctor opened the door for
us, and Samuel pushed me out into the corridor. Pietro was
waiting for us. He gave me a tight smile before he leveled
his gaze on Samuel, who still looked slightly disheveled.
Nothing an outsider or someone who didn’t know him would
notice, but it was obvious to his dad.
“How about you go freshen up and grab another coffee,
and I’ll take Emma to her room.”
Samuel met my gaze. I kept my face straight. Maybe he
hoped I’d ask him to stay, but I still needed a couple of
minutes to let the relief sink in. Our baby was okay. The
bleeding had been nothing serious, which made our almost
catastrophic crash even more tragic. What if I’d lost the
baby because of this? I didn’t even want to think about it.
 Samuel brushed my shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.” He bent
down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, surprising me with
the intimate gesture in front of his dad. It showed how
shaken up he was and that I didn’t shy back exposed how
shaken I was too.
“Okay,” I clipped and watched him stride away. Strong
and tall but a little broken. My heart wanted to forgive him,
but I knew he and I would have to have a serious
conversation and find a solution before that could happen.
Pietro took me to my room. My arm hurt, so hoisting
myself up caused me more trouble than anticipated.
“May I?” Pietro asked, opening his arms.
I nodded with a small, embarrassed smile. Accepting help
often still made me uncomfortable, especially with people I
wasn’t very close to. Pietro was always very kind, but I
wasn’t as close to him as I was to Ines. He was a reserved
man like Samuel, so bonding took longer.
“I’m heavier than I look,” I joked.
Pietro chuckled. “And I’m not as old as I look.”
My eyes widened. “You don’t look old.” He was in his late
fifties, with gray streaks in his brown hair to show for it, but
he was in shape and as tall as Samuel.
He picked me up and lifted me into the bed. “There you
go.” He met my gaze, and the mirth disappeared from his
face, sadness and worry taking over. “Samuel feels horrible
as he should. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”
“Guilt and loss,” I said quietly. “Denial.”
Pietro nodded. “He’s strong. He can handle it.”
I shook my head. I didn’t like contradicting Pietro. He was
my father-in-law and the Underboss of the city, at least until
January when Samuel would take over, but he was blind to
the truth, like so many Made Men.
“He won’t be able to handle it on his own. Especially if he
becomes Underboss in January. That’s even more weight
that will be resting on his shoulders.”
 “It was announced officially that he’ll take over in
January. We can’t change it now without raising suspicions.”
I had feared he’d say that, and I knew Samuel would see
it the same way.
“I know.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Pietro assured me. “Samuel
needs you, and I think you need him.”
I nodded, then touched my bump. “And the baby needs
me to protect it.”
“Samuel won’t ever do anything to risk your life or that of
the baby again, I know it.”
Pietro’s phone beeped with a message, and he scanned it
quickly, then looked back up.
“Your brother is on the way,” Pietro murmured. “Samuel
told him about the crash.”
That wouldn’t go over well. Danilo would lose his shit on
Samuel, and this time I couldn’t even blame him. “Does he
know about the alcohol?”
Pietro’s lips tightened. “I don’t know, but I’m not sure if
it’s wise to tell your brother this detail.”
I wasn’t either.
Fifteen minutes later, Danilo stormed into my hospital
room. One look at his face told me things would be out of
control soon. His eyes burned with fury. After he hugged me
carefully, he straightened again. “Where is he?”
“Danilo, please calm down. We’re in public, and I’m fine,”
I said, trying to avoid a huge scene. I wasn’t fine, not in the
mental sense at least. The bruise on my arm would fade
soon, but the almost crash would surely haunt my nights for
a while.
The door opened at that moment, and Samuel stepped
in. Danilo lunged at him and smashed his fist against
Samuel’s face. Samuel shoved Danilo away but didn’t
otherwise retaliate. His expression burned with guilt. I
assumed that held him back. Pietro stepped between them.
“Enough. Emma doesn’t need to see this.”
 Danilo glowered at Samuel over Pietro’s shoulder. “I think
she does. I think she needs to dump your sorry ass. You
aren’t worthy of her.”
“This is between my wife and me,” Samuel said in a
deadly whisper. A bruise was already forming on his chin.
Danilo walked toward my bed and pressed a kiss to my
forehead before he turned to Samuel once again. “Emma
almost died because of a drunk driver. She is in a wheelchair
because of a drunk driver. And you fucking bastard get
behind the wheel stinking drunk with her in the car? You
could have killed her and the baby.”
Tears burned in my eyes, the heavy reality of the truth
sinking in.
“I want a word with Emma,” Samuel said, his eyes
locking on mine. His words had been a command, but his
gaze asked me if it was okay.
I nodded. Danilo didn’t budge. “Don’t forgive him, Emma.
Not for this.”
I swallowed hard, more tears gathering in my eyes. I’d
always thought I’d never be with someone with an alcohol
problem, but here I was. I squeezed Danilo’s hand. “Give us
some privacy.”
Pietro stepped outside, and after a hard look at Samuel,
Danilo followed him and closed the door.
Samuel lowered his head, his shoulders sagging. He
shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “Danilo is right.
You shouldn’t forgive me for this. Fuck, I’m a lying asshole
who almost killed you and our child. I don’t deserve you,
and I probably never will.”
“Not with the way you acted these past few months, no.”
I shifted until I perched on the edge of the bed. I glared at
him. “I’m so angry and disappointed. You promised, and you
lied. Did you even try to stop drinking?”
He ran a hand through his hair, then winced. “I thought I
could control it.”
 “But you can’t! The alcohol is in control. How can I ever
leave you alone with our baby if I have to be worried you
can’t take care of it because you’re drunk.”
Samuel moved closer, grabbed my hands resting on my
lap, and sank down on his knees. He kissed my knuckles
and pressed his forehead against them. “There are no words
to express how sorry I am. I hate myself more than you can
ever understand, Emma. I know I shouldn’t ask you for this,
but forgive me.” He peered up, his eyes locking on mine
with almost feverish despair. “I can’t live without you.”
“I’m fine and so is our baby, but it could have ended very
differently.”
“I know,” Samuel murmured, looking up with a haunted
look in his eyes. He kissed my knuckles again. It was almost
physically painful not to return his touch, not to fall into his
arms, but I needed to be strong for past Emma and for our
unborn baby. “I haven’t stopped thinking of what could have
happened. Maybe it’s my fate to kill the people closest to
me. I killed my friends, and I almost killed you.”
I glared. “Don’t blame this on fate, Samuel. This time, it
was on you. Fate isn’t the problem. Your addiction is. You
have to stop drinking.”
“I know,” Samuel said. “I love you more than anything.”
I swallowed, fighting the surge of emotions his
declaration caused in me. Love declarations weren’t
enough, not anymore. “More than alcohol?”
“Of course, more than anything.”
“Then let today be the last day you ever touch alcohol.
You need to stop. No exceptions, not even at social functions
or meetings with other Underbosses. No exemptions at all.
You’re an alcoholic, and you can’t control it. I don’t want a
single drop of alcohol in our house. I love you, Samuel. I love
you so much, but that won’t stop me this time.” Tears
blurred my vision. “I won’t watch alcohol destroy the man
that I love. I won’t stand by and allow it to hurt our baby.
And I won’t be lied to or allow you to endanger me because
you think you can control your addiction. I have fought too
hard for this life to allow anyone to destroy it. Not even the
man I love.”
“Emma, I swear on everything I hold dear that I won’t
drink ever again. You’re right.” He swallowed hard. “I’m not
in control of this.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I thought I was
too strong to become an alcoholic. But I’m not. I don’t
fucking care if everyone finds out about my weakness as
long as that means I can keep you.”
“You’re not weak for admitting you have a problem.
You’re taking back control of your life. Fighting your
addiction will be the hardest fight of your life, but it’ll make
you the strongest version of yourself that you’ve ever
been.”
Samuel pushed up to his feet and touched my cheeks. I
could tell he wanted to kiss me, and part of me wanted him
to, but I knew I needed to keep a certain distance until
Samuel made good on his words.
“You can’t win this fight alone.”
“I have you, right? You have fought so many battles and
won. You are all I need.”
I touched his cheek. “I’ll be by your side every step of the
way, but it’s not enough.”
“You’re right. I’ll ask my father for help.”
I gave him a small smile. “You can do it. I believe in you.”
“For you, I will succeed.”
Emma was supposed to spend the remainder of the night in
the hospital to make sure she was okay. Danilo stayed with
her. I didn’t like it, but Emma had made it clear that she
needed some time to herself. I had fucked up.
If Emma or the baby had gotten seriously hurt, I would
have never forgiven myself. Losing my friends would have
been nothing in comparison. My pride had almost hurt the
person I loved the most.
Dad kept glancing at me on our way home. Emma had
asked me to spend the night with my parents so they could
make sure I didn’t drink. Right this moment, I was still too
furious at myself to drink, but I wasn’t sure how long that
would last. I couldn’t deny my problem anymore. I had lied
to myself and to Emma for far too long.
Exhaustion caught up with me. It was three in the
morning, and I hadn’t slept more than fifteen minutes, but I
knew I wouldn’t find peaceful sleep tonight.
“In only two weeks, you’ll take over from me.”
“That won’t change. My ability to do what’s required for
the Outfit hasn’t suffered, and it won’t. I won’t admit to my
problem in public. I only want the closest family to know. I
need to appear strong.”
 Dad nodded. “We’ll handle the situation as a family even
though I wish we didn’t have to tell your mother. She’ll be
worried sick.”
Guilt filled me. Mom had had enough reason to worry
over the years. I hated to cause her additional turmoil.
I really didn’t want to see Mom’s reaction to the news—
the shock, disappointment, worry, and sadness—but I knew
I had to face this problem head-on. I’d ignored it for too
long. I wasn’t a fucking coward.
“We have to tell her. I don’t want any more secrets. This
problem won’t go away by itself.”
Dad sighed. “You’re right. Your mother is strong, and
she’ll turn on her mother-bear mode once she hears about
your struggles.”
My struggles. Even now, thinking about alcohol as that
made me feel like a pussy. I should have been stronger than
the addiction, but I wasn’t.
Mom was still awake when we came home. She wrapped
me in a hug, checking the cut on my forehead that I still
hadn’t let anyone treat. “How’s Emma?”
“She’s okay, but it could have been far worse.”
“What happened?” Mom asked.
“I lost control of the car,” I said. “I drank too much.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “Samuel! How could you? You know
what happened to Emma. And what about the baby?”
“I know, Mom, trust me. I know I messed up, and it won’t
happen again.”
Mom shook her head, her concerned eyes locked on
mine. I could see the questions in them, questions she
didn’t dare ask.
“I’ll have to grab something from the car,” Dad said. I
had a feeling he needed a smoke. Maybe I should have
picked cigarettes instead of booze to deal with my
problems, but it had never been a conscious choice on my
part. Addiction had crept up on me like a stealthy enemy I
had never seen coming.
 Once Dad was outside, I let out a sigh, wondering how to
say what I needed to say. “It’s not the first time I was really
drunk. I drink a lot. More than I should. More than I can
handle. I’m not in control and haven’t been in a while.”
Mom listened with a pained look on her face, but she
didn’t seem surprised by my words.
The words I needed to say stuck like glue in my throat,
but I spat them out. “I’m an alcoholic.” Fuck, that admission
was a punch in the gut. An addict. Being an addict felt like
something that happened in dark alleys to people who had
no future and no choices. Not to someone like me. Maybe
that misconception made alcohol such a dangerous
adversary.
Mom pulled me into a hug. I patted her back lightly. “It’s
going to be okay, Mom. I’ll deal with it now. I won’t risk
losing Emma over this.”
Mom pulled back, tears in her eyes. “I know you’ll beat
this. We’ll help you.”
Dad came back in with a cautious look, and Mom
narrowed her eyes at him when he pressed a kiss to her
temple. “Maybe you too could try to give up on your
addiction?”
Dad gave a terse nod. He smelled of smoke. He kissed
Mom’s cheek. “Go to bed. It’s late. I’ll take care of Samuel’s
wound.”
Mom reluctantly moved upstairs, and I followed Dad into
his office, where he kept a first-aid kit. My eyes landed on
the array of liquor bottles in the cabinet. Usually, I would
have had a drink before getting stitched up. A voice in my
head told me that one last sip wouldn’t hurt anyone, but I
ignored it.
Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “Will this be a problem?”
I shook my head. “No. Not yet at least.”
Dad nodded slowly as he took out the strips to fix my cut.
“Would an enemy be able to tempt you with alcohol under
torture?”
 “No,” I said firmly. I wasn’t sure of many things right now,
but I wouldn’t break under torture because they waved a
bottle of wine in front of me.
Dad nodded. “I’m still Underboss for the next two weeks,
and I’ll keep a close eye on you to make sure you prove to
Emma that you’re serious about becoming sober.”
Becoming sober. I hated how that sounded. But it was the
reality of the situation. Fuck.
I’d just sent Danilo back to his hotel room to shower and talk
to Sofia when Giorgia came in with a box of chocolates.
Renato gave me a tight smile and a nod, then closed the
door so we’d have privacy. She came over to the bed and
hugged me carefully, her eyes crinkling with worry as she
looked at me. “How are you?”
I shrugged. “Okay, I think. A little shaken from the
accident.”
Giorgia shook her head. “This is the second time you
scared me to death. Can you stop?”
I let out a small laugh. “I’ll try.”
She pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat. “I got
chocolate truffles for you. Don’t worry, they are without
alcohol.”
I smiled and took one of the small treats.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
 I swallowed the chocolate, then released a small sigh.
“You can’t tell anyone, not even Renato, but maybe Samuel
will tell him. He’s his best friend after all.”
“I’ll keep your secret.”
I confided in Giorgia and immediately felt a weight being
lifted off my shoulders. For the road ahead, both Samuel
and I needed support, and Giorgia had always been my best
friend.

Pietro picked me up at the hospital with my wheelchair.

“Samuel hasn’t drunk anything since the car accident,”
Pietro said as we headed to their mansion.
“That’s a good start.” That was only twelve hours, but I
hoped it was really the beginning of him winning this battle.
When Pietro and I entered the mansion, both Ines and
Samuel waited for us in the entry. Samuel came toward me,
looking his usual sophisticated self, but for once in slacks
and a sweater. “How are you?” he murmured.
“Better,” I said.
“And the little one?” He brushed his fingers over my
bump.
“Kicking me all morning.”
Samuel smiled, then straightened. Ines took his place
and pulled me in a tight hug.
“Would you like a tea?”
I nodded. “I need to have a word with Samuel first.”
Samuel led me toward his father’s office. I immediately
noticed that all the liquor bottles were gone from the
cabinet. “Dad hid them this morning when I slept on the
sofa.”
 “That makes sense.”
“You think I have so little restraint?” he asked quietly,
stopping in front of me.
“What do you think?”
He sighed and squatted before me. “I know it’ll be hard,
really hard, but I know why I’m doing it, and I won’t fail.”
I touched his hand, and he linked our fingers. “I think we
should move in with your parents for a few days until the
absolute worst of your withdrawal is over. It’s Christmas, so
nobody will be surprised if we decide to be close as a
family.”
Samuel nodded. “Perfect timing. Trying to get sober
during Christmastime.”
“It would be the best Christmas present I could imagine if
you didn’t drink until Christmas morning.”
“That’s only four more days.”
“The first few days will be the hardest, and the rest will
be hard too. Addiction is a lifelong battle, Samuel.”
I had tried to read any article I could get my hands on in
the past few months. I was far from being an expert, but I
wanted to support Samuel as well as I could.
“I know. But I’ve never shied away from a battle, and I
won’t start now. So will you stay here with me?”
“Of course, I won’t leave you alone.”
“So you still want to be married to me?”
I sighed. “I love you, that hasn’t changed, and I want to
spend the rest of our lives together.”
Samuel kissed me lightly. “I’ll make it up to you,
everything, the lies, the crash, I swear.”
Ines sat down beside me at the dining table, and she poured
herself coffee while I stuck to herbal tea. I’d never been a
huge coffee drinker, and since my pregnancy, I abhorred the
taste. Not to mention the restlessness I felt due to the
caffeine.
Ines had ordered cupcakes from her favorite bakery.
“Which one would you like?”
“Passionfruit.” I pointed at the cupcake with white
frosting and the orange-black seeds of the fruit on top. I
smiled. “I’m still really into everything sour. My lemon water
consumption is ridiculous.”
Ines laughed as she took a vanilla cupcake for herself.
“Oh, I remember the cravings. Especially with Samuel and
Serafina, they were strong, as was my morning sickness.”
Wistfulness filled her eyes as she thought about the past.
The thought of being separated from my child brought
tears to my eyes. Pregnancy hormones were no joke.
Ines took my hand and squeezed. “I made my peace with
it. Deep down, I know Serafina is happy where she is, and
that’s enough for me.” She took a small bite from her
cupcake with a distant expression. “It was hard for Samuel.
Especially because he lost not just his twin but also three of
his best friends. He can’t stop blaming himself.”
“I know.”
“He told me about his alcohol problem when he came
here from the hospital. I’ve had my suspicions. But I didn’t
think it was this serious.”
Relief flooded me that Samuel had found the courage to
talk about this with his mother. Admitting to his problem
was hopefully the first step toward recovery. I wanted
nothing more.
“It is,” I whispered.
“You’re not going to leave, are you?”
I took her hand. “I’ll be honest with you. I considered it. I
don’t want our child to find him passed out on the floor
stinking of bourbon.”
 “Did that really happen?”
I nodded, hating to tell her about this. “Is it okay if
Samuel and I spend a few days with you? We think it’s for
the best if Samuel has additional family support during this
time. Pietro can keep him in check better than I do, and they
are together at work too so he can make sure Samuel
doesn’t consume alcohol then.”
“I’ll throw away all of our alcohol. I don’t want Samuel to
be tempted. And I’ll ask our cook to prepare our Christmas
meals without alcohol.”
“Can you help me remove the alcohol from our place too?
I don’t know if Samuel has any hiding places except for his
car, the garage, and his office.”
Ines’s face pinched. “He shouldn’t have hidden this from
you.”
“That’s part of being an addict. But he swore he would
never keep a secret like this from me again.”
Later that day, we gathered all the flasks and bottles in a
basket so Pietro could take them away. Samuel also
revealed two hiding places in our house, in one of his
clothes drawers and the weaponry in the basement, and
Pietro threw away everything while Samuel and I packed a
suitcase for the next few days. I really hoped that there
weren’t any more hiding places that Samuel hadn’t told us
about, but he had sworn to me that he was serious, and I
gave him the benefit of the doubt. I knew addiction was a
strong opponent, but Samuel was stronger.
Just one more taste before I end it for good. It’s a shame to
let the expensive whisky that Renato gifted me go to waste.
A final goodbye.
The words had thrummed in my head incessantly during
the drive to our house, and it took considerable effort for me
to reveal where I hid said bottle. Now that Dad had thrown
away everything, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my
shoulders.
Emma and I had agreed that it would be best for us to
move in with my parents for a couple of days. Emma was
worried about the physical and mental withdrawal effects. I
wasn’t too worried. I had been trained to withstand torture. I
had already lived through hell. What kind of withdrawal
symptoms could possibly be worse than what I had
experienced over the years? But I wanted to show Emma
how serious I was.
Moving back in with my parents felt strange, even if it
was just for a week tops and during Christmastime.
Especially since Emma was with me. I’d be under constant
surveillance. When Emma and I settled in our bedroom on
the day after the crash, she gave me a look full of
confidence and trust. That wasn’t something I wanted to
break.
I hadn’t drunk since last night shortly before the crash.
Less than twenty-four hours without alcohol. I didn’t feel too
bad yet, except for a slight headache and a sense of
restlessness that made me want to go jogging at full speed.
During dinner, Mom and Dad kept throwing glances my
way as if they were waiting for any obvious signs of
withdrawal. My shirt stuck to my clammy back, but that
wasn’t something I wanted to share with them. Danilo and
Sofia weren’t having dinner with us. They’d decided to go to
one of Sofia’s favorite places in the city. It was probably
because Dad worried that Danilo and I would get into a
fight. Danilo had sent me several threatening messages, but
I hadn’t replied. I understood his anger. I had fucked up last
night, and something like that would never happen again.
“We’ll decide tomorrow if you’re fit to accompany me to
the newest casino in St. Paul.”
“I’ll be fine, Dad. My symptoms are hardly worth
mentioning, and I doubt that will change. I didn’t get drunk
every day.”
“But you consumed every day,” Emma said softly. “More
than a glass of wine.”
I gritted my teeth. I shouldn’t feel frustrated because
Emma said the truth. While I realized I had a problem, I
didn’t think it was as monumental as Emma made it out to
be. I wouldn’t lose it because I suddenly had to live without
alcohol. Deep down, I couldn’t help but hope that I’d
eventually be able to drink a glass here and there, and stay
in control over it.
After dinner, Emma and I retired to our bedroom. By now,
not just my back was sweaty but my hands felt clammy too.
I was way too hot.
Emma gave me a scrutinizing glance. “You look flushed.”
“It’s too hot for me.”
 She didn’t comment, but I could tell that she blamed it on
withdrawal. I preferred to think my parents had simply
turned the AC too high.
I took a long, cold shower but when I stepped out, I didn’t
feel cooler, and worse, I felt slightly lightheaded. I stretched
out in bed and stared up at the ceiling. I felt a little uneasy.
“Are you alright?” Emma asked softly.
“I’m fine.”
She nodded but didn’t look convinced. “I’ll just get ready,
then I’ll be back.”
“I don’t need constant supervision. There’s no alcohol in
the house that I could access.” The idea that Dad had
locked his collection of expensive whiskies and bourbons in
a safe because of me made me feel horrible.
I closed my eyes, but after a while, my pulse began
racing, and my throat felt tight, so I opened my eyes again
and continued staring at the ceiling. I really wanted a drink
with Dad. It was our tradition to end the evening with a
tumbler filled with exquisite spirits.
The sound of Emma’s wheelchair made me turn my head.
“My father and I had the tradition of ending our evening
with a good glass of whisky. It’s how we always bonded even
after an argument.”
“You’ll find new traditions and new ways to bond.”
“It doesn’t work with a glass of water or a green
smoothie,” I muttered, feeling really angry all of a sudden.
Emma stretched out beside me and put her hand on my
chest.
“I know it feels like you’re giving up too much right now,
but you’re gaining more. You’re gaining control and health.”
“And I get to keep you and our baby. That’s my price for
giving up alcohol.”
Emma leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my
cheek. “I’ll be by your side every step of the way. Even
when it gets hard.”
 I nodded and stroked her cheek. My headache had
worsened and was impacting my vision.
“Let’s sleep,” Emma suggested. She turned off the lights.
Despite my pulse picking up once again, I didn’t ask her to
turn it back on. Whatever was happening with my body, I
could handle it.

My hands were bloody. The knife I was clutching was bloody.

My clothes were bloody.
So much blood.
A scream sounded, followed by pleading.
I looked up from my hands. Renato was chained to a
chair. His body was covered in cuts and burns, and skin was
missing in parts. “Stop. Please stop. I don’t know anything.
Have mercy.”
He pleaded with me. I was the one torturing him.
I wanted to stop, but my hand with the knife moved
toward his chest. I couldn’t stop it. The moment the tip of
my knife bored into his skin and slid beneath the upper
layer, he let out a hoarse scream, his features twisting in
agony. Suddenly, his face morphed into that of Enea.
“Stop,” he cried.
“Stop,” I repeated, almost as desperate as he was. But I
didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I watched myself torture my friend
like a bystander, unable to help him, unable to protect him
from myself.
“Samuel!”
My cheek stung.
“Samuel.” My eyes opened to brightness, the contorted
face of Enea dissipating and Emma’s pale face taking form
in front of me. She looked horrified.
I sat up and raised my hands before my face, turning
them over and over. They were covered in blood. I looked
around for the knife. But there was none. I shoved to my
feet and searched the floor, then checked my bloody hands
again.
“Samuel, what are you doing?”
“Where is the knife?”
Emma gave me a pained look. “There is no knife here.
Your gun is in the drawer of your nightstand, and you left
your knives downstairs.”
I opened the drawer where I found my gun, but no knife.
I moved into the bathroom, desperate to wash my hands,
but when I looked at them this time, they were clean. No
sign of blood. I was covered in sweat, and my hair was
drenched. Slowly, I walked back into the bedroom. Emma
perched on the edge of the bed, watching me with concern.
I sank down on my side. I needed a moment to gather
myself. The linens and covers were damp from my sweat.
“It was me who tortured Enea,” I croaked.
“You pleaded and screamed.”
A knock sounded. I jerked to my feet and drew my gun.
“Come in.”
My father poked his head in. I lowered my gun. Mom
stepped out from behind Dad’s back.
“Everything okay?” Dad asked.
“I had a nightmare,” I said, realizing nothing had actually
happened. It had felt more real than any dream before.
Mom came in and quietly talked to Emma, who nodded.
Mom gave me a shaky smile before she moved back out.
“Will you be okay?” Dad asked Emma.
“Yes,” she said firmly.
Dad met my gaze, concern shining in his brown eyes. I
gave him a firm nod, and he nodded in turn, then took
Mom’s hand and led her out. After they’d left, I took another
shower.
 “Do you want me to change the linens?” I asked Emma.
She shook her head. “We can do it in the morning. It’s
almost four anyway. My side is dry. You could put towels
over yours. Or we take the spare blanket from the
wardrobe.”
I leaned over her and pressed a kiss to the top of her
head. “I won’t sleep again. I’ll go watch something
downstairs.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“You need your sleep.” I gently caressed her belly before
I walked out.
I sucked in a deep breath and made my way downstairs,
where I grabbed a Coke from the fridge and downed it in
one draw, then walked back out of the kitchen. My gaze
lingered on the door to Dad’s office. I knew the safe was
impossible to break open, yet a desperate part of me
wanted to try.
Just one sip.
One fucking sip.
I could simply head out for a drink. There was a bar not
too far from here. Maybe they were still open. Or I could go
to Renato. He always had enough liquor at home.
I closed my eyes. I promised Emma. I wouldn’t risk losing
her because of this weak voice in my head. I was stronger
than an addiction.
I stopped and took a deep breath. My hands became
clammy, and my heartbeat picked up for no fucking reason.
Dammit. I’d had a slower pulse when being shot at, and
here, my body was acting up because of a drink.
I’d go to the living room and wait for morning. In a day or
two, I’d be through the worst. At least, that was what I
hoped.
“Can’t sleep?” Dad asked as he appeared at the end of
the hallway.
“I could, but I won’t,” I said simply and strode toward
him. The hallway ended in the entry, where Dad waited for
me.
He was still in his pajamas like me. “Want some
company?”
I nodded. I wanted to do this alone, but I knew I needed
all the help I could get. Dad and I moved into the living room
together and sat on the couch across from the TV. Dad
picked up the remote. “What do you want to watch?”
“Something that distracts me.” Dad zapped through
several streaming platforms before he settled on a cooking
show. I slanted him a confused look. “A cooking show?”
He shrugged and settled against the backrest. “Watching
other people cook delicious meals calms me.”
“Do you have a secret identity as a chef?”
Dad chuckled. “I can’t cook to save my life. But I like
eating.”
I patted the small belly he’d developed again over the
past year. He was still in much better shape than the
majority of men his age, but he’d definitely enjoyed food a
bit too much recently. Maybe because he’d given up
cigarettes for many months—until yesterday. “I can tell.”
Dad scowled at me. “Careful,” he said, playing offended.
“Your mother likes it. The dad bod is all the rage now.”
I scoffed. “Sure. Mom’s just happy you finally gave up
cigarettes.” I really hoped yesterday hadn’t set him back
again.
“Your mother is still very pleased with me in every
regard.”
The way he said it made it clear he was referring to their
sex life, something Dad usually never did.
Maybe late-night talks in dire situations had that effect. I
grimaced. “Thanks, Dad. Now I definitely have other images
than a glass of bourbon in my head.”
Dad kept his eyes on the screen where someone cracked
eggs into water that he was spinning around with a spoon.
No clue what he was trying to accomplish there. Maybe a
fancy way to make scrambled eggs. “You’ll get through this.
Temptation will cross your path constantly in the future, but
know that resisting will get easier over time.”
Dad had tried to stop smoking several times over the
years. He’d once stopped when he’d married Mom but had
picked the habit up again after Serafina got kidnapped.
“What do you do when you feel tempted?”
Dad glanced my way with a look of regret. “Sometimes I
give in, like yesterday, but I really wish I hadn’t. That one
cigarette really didn’t accomplish anything but worry your
mother and make it harder for me. There’s always the
temptation, but mostly I’m good at resisting. When there’s a
long meeting and others start smoking. Or after a
particularly delicious meal.”
“Do you think you’ll be back to smoking constantly
because you took a pull yesterday?”
Dad smiled sadly. “I’m not sure. I can tell that my body is
already craving another cigarette. I made things harder for
myself. When I had a smoke after finding out Serafina was
kidnapped, I was back to smoking a package a day and the
second time I started smoking again as well. Maybe some
people manage to smoke only on special occasions and
aren’t tempted otherwise, but I’m not one of them, and I
don’t want to risk it. Your mother would be really upset if I
started smoking again, so I’m determined to let yesterday’s
cigarette be the last one. She thinks my life’s dangerous
enough. I don’t need to do other things that put me in an
early grave.”
“I want to believe that I could handle drinking
sporadically at some point, but I know it won’t be that way.
And I don’t want to disappoint Emma.”
“You shouldn’t. She’s a good woman and soon the
mother of your child.”
“What do I tell people? I always drink at functions,
meetings, always. They’ll start to wonder why suddenly I
don’t.”
 Dad’s expression hardened. “You’ll be Underboss soon.
You don’t need to justify your actions to anyone but me. And
your wife. So don’t say anything. It’s not their fucking
business. End of story. Maybe they’ll blame it on you
becoming a father.”
I smiled. “The advantage of power.” I paused. “What
about Dante?”
“Dante will certainly notice the difference, so when he
asks, we’ll tell him.”
I blew out a breath. “I messed up once. Big time. He
didn’t kill me, though he should have. And now I’ll
disappoint him again.”
“He won’t be disappointed in you for giving up on
alcohol, for making the responsible choice and taking back
control. He might punish you if you keep drinking on the job
and mess up, though.”
Dad had a point. I had been drunk in several dangerous
situations in the past. It could have cost me and others their
lives. Fuck. It had taken me way too long to ditch alcohol. I
shivered, suddenly cold. Dad glanced my way. “You’ve got
chills.”
Perspiration appeared on my forehead.
“I’ll be glad when this part is over,” I admitted.
“The physical withdrawal symptoms won’t be the hardest
part. Your mind telling you to drink will be much harder to
bear.”
I leaned my head back against the backrest. I wasn’t
even sure when I’d crossed the line from occasional drinker
to habitual drinker to alcoholic. What I knew with absolute
certainty was that today marked the day I’d stop. For
Emma.
After Samuel left the bed, I barely slept. Having seen how
hard his nightmare had affected him and how the effects of
it had lasted even after he’d woken up had shaken me too.
The withdrawal would be emotionally draining, not just
physically.
When I woke up after having fallen asleep eventually,
Samuel’s side of the bed was still empty. I quickly got ready,
then headed downstairs to find him. A small part of me was
worried that he’d found a way to drink. When I found him on
the sofa, asleep with his chin on his chest and covered with
a cozy blanket, guilt overwhelmed me. I needed to trust
Samuel. But I knew addiction was a tough opponent.
“He fell asleep thirty minutes ago,” Ines said, startling
me in my wheelchair. She appeared beside me with a cup of
coffee cradled in her palms. “He was exhausted. Pietro was
with him all night.”
 “That was so sweet of him. I should have been there for
him as his wife.”
Ines touched my shoulder with a gentle smile. “I think it
was important for Samuel and Pietro to talk and bond over
this experience. And you need lots of sleep. You’re growing
a human.”
The concept was still hard to grasp for me.
“Come on, let’s have breakfast. Samuel needs some
more rest.”
Ines and I ate alone in the dining room. Pietro had to
leave for work early despite his lack of sleep. I had a feeling
Samuel would be annoyed that his father had left without
him. But considering his pallor, it was for the best if he
spent the day on the sofa.
I wasn’t sure if the worst withdrawal symptoms were
already over. It was Christmas Eve in three days, and I
hoped we’d overcome the worst by then.

Two hours later, my worries were confirmed. Samuel woke

shivering and sweaty from another nightmare, and again, it
took him several moments to realize he had been dreaming.
His eyes met mine, and he gave me a tight smile. I
wheeled over to him and touched his thigh. “Maybe a bath
will help.”
He nodded. “I definitely need to shower. Maybe a bath
would be even better.” He pushed to his feet, then swayed
slightly before he caught himself. His lips thinned, and a
look of annoyance filled his eyes. Samuel, like many Made
Men, hated any sign of weakness. “After a few more days,
you’ll feel more like yourself again.”
 He frowned. “Will I? I don’t even remember what it was
like before I started drinking every day.”
“We’ll figure it out together.” Samuel leaned down and
kissed the top of my head before he straightened once
more.
He shivered. He looked as if he was going to be sick at
any moment. He closed his eyes, squared his shoulders,
then headed out. I followed him but stopped in the entry.
Watching Samuel like this filled me with pride and
sadness. I hated seeing him suffering even though I knew it
was necessary.
Ines came toward me and squeezed my shoulder as we
watched Samuel drag himself upstairs for a shower. “He’s
doing it for you and your child, not for himself.”
“I know. I hope he realizes that he’s worth it too.”
“One day. If anyone can make him see his self-worth, it’s
you.”
I’d do my best. I had all the patience in the world. My
accident had taught me perseverance.
Despite his frustration with himself and his body, Samuel
finally listened and rested on the sofa most of the day. After
an early dinner, we went upstairs shortly after eight. I too
felt tired from the previous night, so I didn’t mind an early
bedtime. Tomorrow, Danilo and Sofia would join us, and I
hoped it wouldn’t be too much for Samuel. Danilo had sent
me several messages since the accident, and he’d definitely
want to talk to me privately tomorrow.
Samuel watched me from the bench in front of the bed as
I changed into my nightgown awkwardly. With my growing
belly, getting dressed was more difficult, especially as my
body took up more room in my wheelchair so I had less
space to move. I gave him a smile before I moved into the
bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I hadn’t
bothered putting on makeup today. When I started brushing
my hair, Samuel joined me in the bathroom. He watched me
intensely as he brushed his teeth.
 Eventually, I put down the brush. Samuel’s intense
observation made me feel incredibly hot. He rinsed his
mouth, then turned to me. “You’re gorgeous and sexy, you
know that?”
I flushed at his praise. “Thanks to you, I often do.”
He came toward me and braced himself on my
wheelchair. “Then I’m doing it wrong. You should always feel
that way.”
I smiled. “Nobody always feels sexy and gorgeous.”
Samuel leaned down and kissed me. One of his hands
cupped my face and throat, tilting my head back so he
could deepen the kiss. My body sprang to life at the
passionate kiss, at the incredible heat he emitted, and the
way his tongue played with mine. “I want you. Let me make
love to you.”
I hesitated. Samuel had had a hard day. His body had
been put through the wringer, and I was worried that it
would frustrate him if he didn’t perform like he was used to.
Samuel was proud, and he’d definitely see it as a hit to his
manliness. But I longed for him. Maybe he needed this to
prove to himself that we were still okay and we’d get
through this. I wanted to show him that everything would be
okay. Perhaps he needed more than words to truly believe it.
Samuel pulled back with a bitter smile. “I guess my
performance today wasn’t a huge turn-on.”
I frowned. “That’s nonsense. You always turn me on,
Samuel. You’re sexy.” I ran my hands down his chest, then
slid my fingers under his shirt and brushed his arms and
chest. “I’m just worried that you’re demanding too much
from your body.”
“I know my body might ruin things for me, but I don’t
care. I need to make love to you. I need to feel something
good. I need you, Emma.”
“Oh Samuel,” I whispered.
“And I’ll make sure you come, even if my cock fucks up.”
 “I don’t care about coming. I want to be with you, that’s
all.”
His lips crashed against mine once again. Our kiss
banished the last doubt from my mind. I tugged at his shirt,
desperate to get him naked. I never got enough of seeing
Samuel naked. He was Adonis in human form, and he was
all mine. Every glorious inch of him. Samuel dragged his
shirt over his head, and my fingers mapped his skin as my
eyes admired it. I tugged at the waistband of his pajama
bottoms until they slid down his hips and pooled at his feet,
revealing his half-erect cock. I took him in my hands and
leaned forward, eager to pleasure him. Samuel let out a
groan when his tip slid into my mouth. He regarded me
through half-lidded eyes, but from the tight set of his
shoulders, I could tell he was tense.
As I circled him with my tongue and cupped his balls, he
grew harder immediately.
Samuel stroked my hair out of my face to get a better
look. “This is about you, Emma, not me.”
“This is about us,” I corrected and sucked him slowly into
my mouth until his tip hit the back of my throat. With my
eyes on him, I let his cock glide out again, then sucked it
back in. Samuel held my head as I pleasured him with my
tongue and lips.
Samuel stepped back and grabbed my hips, then hoisted
me up on the counter. He pushed up my nightgown and
pulled my panties down my legs. It was damp with arousal.
Samuel’s gaze was full of need and desire as he looked into
my eyes. “Now it’s your turn. I’ll worship your gorgeous
body until you beg me to stop.”
I bit my lip. “I doubt I can ever have enough of your
touch. It’s my addiction.”
“The right kind of addiction,” Samuel growled.
I kissed Emma hard, grabbing her face with both hands. She
tilted her head up eagerly.
I tugged down her strap and freed one perfect breast. I
released her lips and moved lower so my lips could cup her
nipple. She arched against me, and I sucked more of her
breast into my mouth. My other hand massaged her hip,
then stroked along her thigh. Emma was panting as I
lavished her nipple with attention, and the scent of her
arousal flooded my nose like an intoxicating perfume. I
released Emma’s nipple and leaned back to get a better
view as I slowly pushed her legs apart, revealing her
glistening pussy. Emma exhaled with a look of anticipation
on her face. I splayed my fingers across her inner thigh,
spreading her even wider open for me. The sight of her
opening, ready and eager for me, sent a new flood of blood
into my cock. At least, that part of my body didn’t
disappoint me today.
I ran my thumb over Emma’s opening and up over her
silky lips, parting them as I did until I reached the slight
swell of her clit. I focused my attention there, gently
stroking up, spreading her wetness and coaxing her little
button out with my ministration. Emma leaned back on her
palms, panting, her chest heaving. She bit her lip and
swallowed.
I could tell she was trying to be quiet. “Are you worried
my parents can hear us?” I rubbed her clit a little harder and
faster. Her slickness made it easy for my finger to move.
She gave me a pleading look.
“Trust me, they’ll be happy to know you make me happy
right now.”
I leaned closer, kissed her ear, then murmured, “How
many do you want?”
She watched me through half-lidded eyes as my thumb
brought her closer and closer to release.
“How many fingers do you want in your tight pussy,
love?”
She shuddered, then breathed, “Three.”
“My insatiable kitten. Let’s hope you can take what
you’re asking for.”
She bit her lip, her gaze pure sex. “Your cock is bigger
than that, and I can handle him.”
I grinned. My thumb rubbed her clit harder as I stroked
her opening with the fingers of my other hand. I slid in one
finger. “One.” I pulled it out and pushed in two fingers.
“Two.” Her lashes fluttered, her lips parted as she panted
harder.
I pushed in three fingers, and Emma clenched around
me, her eyes falling shut as she mounted the last bit to her
climax.
“Good girl,” I praised her as she spasmed around my
fingers that I curled as deeply in her pussy as I could while
my thumb circled her engorged clit. Her fingers grabbed the
edge of the marble counter as she whimpered and
shuddered through her release. Arousal slicked my fingers.
When she came down from her high, I pulled out my fingers.
“Now I need a taste.” Emma’s eyes slid open as I knelt
and bent over her pussy. She grabbed my hair as if to stop
me, but I leaned forward until my tongue reached her
opening. I dipped in for the first intense taste, groaning
deeply as I did so.
Emma leaned back against the mirror, her head dipped
back and her eyes closed. Her fingers against my head
became slack, but her pussy twitched against my mouth,
overstimulated but at the same time eager for what I was
doing. I traced every inch of her pussy with my tongue,
lapping up Emma’s sweetness. “This tastes better than any
bourbon or whisky. I think I’ll simply have to eat you out
whenever I feel the need for a drink.”
Emma let out a raw laugh, her eyes peeling open slowly. I
smirked. Then I pushed up to my feet. Emma reached for
my face and pulled me in for a kiss. I grabbed her ass
cheeks and lifted her off the counter. After securing her legs
around my waist, I carried her over to the bed.
I put her down and stretched out on top of her. My cock
was pressed against her pussy, but I didn’t want to fuck her
yet. I simply wanted to feel her, to kiss her. I cradled her
head and kissed her deeply. Our eyes locked as we kissed,
and my heart swelled at the look of tenderness in Emma’s
gaze. I pulled back. “I love you. I know I don’t say it often,
but I love you every second of the day. I’m glad you put up
with my shit and are still by my side. I don’t want to imagine
my life without you.”
“I love you too.”
She twitched, eyes darting down. I raised my eyebrows.
“The baby kicked very hard.”
I rolled off her and stared at her exposed belly. Emma
took my hand and put it down on the spot beneath her ribs.
It took a couple of moments before I felt a gentle shift.
Emma winced. She could obviously feel the movements
more strongly than I did. Still I kept my palm there and felt
another slight movement. I smiled. Most days, becoming a
father seemed far away, but this made it more real. It also
emphasized how important it was for me to get a grip on my
fucking alcohol problem. I wouldn’t let it ruin everything. I
had already done a good enough job of that with the crash.
Emma ran her fingers through my hair. “The past is the
past. You have today and every day that follows to prove
yourself.”
Fuck, and I would. I pressed my ear against Emma’s
belly, wondering if I could hear anything. Except for the low
rumble of Emma’s belly, there was nothing. I cocked an
eyebrow at Emma. “Hungry?” I asked suggestively.
Emma gave me an embarrassed smile. “For food, yes.
I’m sorry. I feel like I’m constantly starving, especially in the
evening.”
I chuckled and got out of bed. “What are you in the mood
for?” I asked as I put on pajama pants and a T-shirt.
Emma sat up with a mortified expression. “PB&J
sandwich, warm milk, and pretzels.”
I shook my head with a deep laugh. “All right. I’ll raid the
fridge and cabinets to see what we have.” I paused. “Do you
want me to head out to a store if we’re out of anything?”
She quickly shook her head. “Just surprise me with a
good substitute.”
“Your wish is my command.” I jogged down the stairs but
had to slow down halfway because my head spun again. I
was annoyed at my body for messing with me like that. I’d
hoped I wouldn’t show any obvious withdrawal symptoms.
Upon hearing me, Dad emerged from the living room with
a look of concern on his face. “Everything okay?”
“Emma is hungry. I need to search the kitchen for the
things that strike her fancy.”
Dad chuckled and followed me into the kitchen. If it was
to help me or to make sure I didn’t find any alcohol, I wasn’t
sure. Usually, there was always a cooking wine on the
counter and one in the fridge, but Mom had thrown them
away.
I didn’t find peanut butter, only almond butter that Mom
used for breakfast bowls, and a sugar-free chia jam. Neither
would probably quench Emma’s cravings. The grain-free
protein bread that Dad ate definitely wouldn’t get me any
bonus points either, but I had to work with what I had.
“Do you want me to send one of the bodyguards out to
the store?” Dad asked.
“I fear Emma will have starved by then.”
Dad nodded as if he could remember Mom being the
same way.
I added maple syrup to the chia jam for sweetness, which
resulted in a very soppy sandwich. I grabbed some cutlery
in case Emma needed it. Then I heated some milk in the
microwave. “Do you have pretzels?”
Dad shook his head. “I snacked on them too much.”
“Do you have any kind of savory treat?”
“I think your mom always keeps a stash of kale chips.”
I sent Dad an annoyed look. Emma wouldn’t be
impressed at all with my selection. “Tell the maid to grab
some unhealthy stuff in the morning, for God’s sake.”
Dad patted my back with a smile. “Good to see you being
distracted like that.”
I grabbed the tray and headed back to the bedroom.
Maybe it had been Emma’s intention. Though her stomach
had definitely requested food. That hadn’t been a ploy to
distract me.
When I entered the bedroom, Emma sat up immediately
and held out her hands. I put the tray on her lap, and she
scanned the food, then gave me a questioning look. I
shrugged. “My parents are on a health kick. I did my best.”
She lifted one of the bread slices, revealing the jam and
maple syrup disaster. It didn’t look appealing in the
slightest.
Maybe I should just order some food. “I can—”
Emma grabbed the sandwich, dripping it all over the tray,
and took a huge bite. She shrugged. “It doesn’t taste bad.”
She finished the sandwich within a minute. Her chin and
upper lip were smeared with jam. I shook my head and
grabbed a towel from the bathroom. I’d forgotten napkins.
By the time I returned, she was eating the kale chips.
I sank on the edge of the bed and regarded her as she
downed half of the milk. Then she gave me a pleased smile.
“This wasn’t so bad. I don’t suppose there’s a piece of
chocolate somewhere in this house?”
I chuckled and pushed to my feet. “You keep me busy
and not the way I had planned.”
Emma gave me a sheepish grin. “Sorry, it’s the
hormones. But we can still continue where we left off later if
you want?” I looked at Emma’s jam-covered lips and the
crumbs of kale attached to it, then bent down and kissed
her ear. “You never looked sexier.”
She swatted me away with an indignant look. “So that’s a
no?”
“That’s a definite yes.”
I left in search of chocolate. Dad sat on the couch in the
living room and looked up from his laptop when I began
searching the cabinets for Christmas sweets. “Your mother
bought truffles for Emma and Sofia. But they’re already
wrapped.”
“Tell Mom I’m sorry, but Emma needs chocolate,” I
muttered as I ripped away the gift wrapping around one of
the praline boxes. I had to admit taking care of Emma like
this made me feel good.
When I finally returned to the bedroom, Emma had put
the tray down on the floor and was fast asleep on her side. I
put the chocolates beside her on the nightstand in case a
nightly craving hit her, then climbed into bed with her and
pressed up to her petite body, breathing in the flowery scent
of her hair.
I took another, even deeper breath when my body
shivered and called for something to drink. It was an almost
physical pull, but I held Emma. She was the reason I was
doing this, and she was also why I wouldn’t fail.
Three weeks sober and a week as Underboss, today marked
the day I’d have to gather all of my strength to resist the
need for a drink.
Our newest club was swarming with police officers. On
the day of its grand opening, no less. I had gotten a call
from the club manager thirty minutes ago and came as
quickly as I could. I found him talking to the famous—
according to my manager—DJ we had hired for way too
much money and a stash of cocaine. I joined them in front
of the back entrance where I’d parked my car.
“I can’t have bad press,” the DJ said.
“You agreed to the job, and you will give people what
they want, a fucking amazing show, or the press will be all
over the photos of you snorting cocaine from the tits of our
best prostitutes.”
He paled, then stalked back inside the building. I shook
hands with the manager, an ambitious son of one of our
Captains. “The mayor is in the front, showing his face for the
cameras.”
“The police won’t find anything.”
My manager nodded.
I headed inside, then crossed the huge club past dozens
of police officers turning everything over. It would take a lot
of manpower to put everything back in place before the
opening in six hours. I caught the eyes of two senior officers
on our payroll among a few others. They had warned us an
hour before the operation so we had time to hide any
compromising material. I found the mayor in front of the
main entrance of the club, speaking to the press. He was
young, very ambitious, and had the looks that could
catapult him into much higher political positions if he did it
right.
“Mayor,” I said with a hard smile. “This could be
considered harassment. Is this because my family supported
your opponent in the last election?”
He smoothed his dark blond hair back with a fake smile.
“This is me making good on my promise. I told the voters I
would clean the streets, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“This is a nightclub. You won’t find anything that’ll make
these streets any safer.”
“We’ll see. We both know you aren’t a mere
businessman, Mr. Mione, so stop pretending.”
My smile became threatening as I stepped closer to him.
“You would know all about pretending, wouldn’t you?” He
was a hardliner and propagated traditional family values in
a very adamant way, which wasn’t too far from the values
the Outfit upheld, but I knew his interest in women was
nonexistent. I personally didn’t care if someone fucked guys
or women, but I cared about ambitious politicians ruining
my business. Something flickered in his eyes, then he gave
me a terse smile and glanced at his watch. “I have more
important matters to deal with.”
 “I’m sure,” I drawled and pushed my hands into my
pockets, then watched him drive away. I gritted my teeth
and returned to the club.
My manager was at the bar, shaking his head over a few
liquor bottles that had shattered on the floor, thanks to
careless police officers. I stopped beside him but regretted it
immediately when the strong odor of bourbon and martini
wafted into my nose.
“I need a drink, what about you?” he asked.
I stiffened and shook my head. My phone rang at that
moment, and I picked up. “There’s a big fight between Made
Men in my grandparents’ restaurant,” Renato said.
“I’ll head there.”
It was only a ten-minute drive from where I was. “Make
sure everything is ready for tonight,” I told the manager
before I left the club. I’d have to discuss with Dad how to
keep the mayor in check. I didn’t want him to start
investigating more.
When I pulled up in front of the Cantina, one of the front
windows was broken, and I could hear screams and shooting
inside. I pulled my own gun. I hadn’t thought it was this
serious. Dammit, what was going on?
I ducked my head and ran toward the front door, then
peered in. Two of my soldiers were caught in a shooting
match, one hidden behind the bar, the other behind an
overturned table. I could see Renato’s grandfather peering
out of the kitchen, a gun in hand.
“Put your weapons down now!” I ordered. “It’s me,
Samuel.”
Another shot was fired from behind the bar. “He fucked
my wife!” The voice sounded raspy and weak.
“Weapons down! That’s a fucking order.”
The soldier behind the table tossed his gun to the center.
Then nothing. I slowly walked inside as Renato’s grandfather
stepped out and looked at something behind the bar. He
bent down, then straightened and shook his head.
 “Fuck.”
I stalked toward the guy behind the table and dragged
him to his feet, but he moaned and clutched his bleeding
side. “Call our doctor,” I shouted.
Renato’s grandfather picked up his phone.
“What the fuck happened here?”
He winced, holding his side. “I slept with his wife, and he
found out. I came here to grab dinner for my family before
the restaurant opened, and he cornered me.”
I pushed him down on a chair with force. “I suppose your
wife doesn’t know you fucked around.”
He shook his head, paling more as he lost more blood. I
headed around the bar where the other man had bled out
from two shot wounds to his belly. I looked around. Two
windows were broken, glass was everywhere, and several
tables were ruined. The restaurant wouldn’t open tonight. I
didn’t need word about this to spread. The mayor might try
to use it against us until I’d figured out a safe way to get
him under control.
“Thanks for coming,” Renato’s grandfather said and
handed me a bottle of vintage Brunello, one of my favorites.
I took it, then called our cleanup crew and headed back to
my car. I put the bottle down on the passenger seat.
I really wanted a drink.
Emma wasn’t home yet. She was with Giorgia. She
wouldn’t find out if I had a drink if I showered and brushed
my teeth.
I started the car and gave the club manager another call
to ask how things were going—too slow—and then I called
Renato to tell him his grandparents were okay, but the
restaurant wasn’t. After that, I drove to the dead soldier’s
family. His wife cried over his death, and maybe it wasn’t
even fake. His three kids were definitely distraught. I hated
being the harbinger of bad news like that, especially when
my own men were responsible for a death. I’d have to figure
out how to punish the surviving soldier. He too had kids.
 When I arrived home, I stayed in the car for a while,
debating if I should take the wine bottle with me. I
messaged Emma.
I got my favorite wine as a gift today.
It was only a small part of the story, but I knew it was
enough.
Immediately, Emma’s name flashed across my screen. I
took a deep breath. I shouldn’t have disturbed her. Now
she’d feel obligated to return home early. I picked it up.
“I’ll be home in thirty minutes,” she said. She probably
wasn’t alone.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to rush. I’ve been alone with the
bottle for a while now.” My voice sounded relaxed and
certain, but my insides craved that wine.
“I know it’s going to be fine.” Emma too sounded sure. I
wondered if she was. “But I’ll be home soon. I’m tired.”
I hung up and grabbed the bottle, then walked into the
house. I could hear pots clinking in the kitchen, but I walked
straight to my office, grabbed a glass and a bottle opener,
then sat on the armchair in front of the fireplace. The
familiar scent of berries and tannins flooded my nose as I
poured myself a generous glass. I watched the dark red
liquid and whirled it around in the glass so it could breathe
and really develop its aroma.
Would a drink get rid of my problems with the mayor? No.
Would it help me find a just punishment for the cheating
soldier? No.
But it would surely make it seem that way for a little
while.
I found Samuel in his office, sitting in his armchair in a half-
unbuttoned shirt and swirling a dark red liquid in a
wineglass. His jacket and tie lay discarded on the hardwood
floor. His blond brows pulled together as he regarded the
alcohol in the glass. I stopped in the doorway, waiting for
him to look up, but he didn’t, only kept staring at the glass.
“Today was a shitty day. A police raid in one of our clubs
because the new mayor wants to show us who’s boss.” He
smiled grimly as if the mayor would learn soon enough that
it wasn’t him. “A fight among Made Men because one slept
with the wife of another. One guy dead, the other badly
injured, of course the one who stole the woman. Now I need
to decide what to do with him. They both have young
children.” He finally looked up.
“Sounds stressful,” I said softly, gliding closer until I
came to a stop before him. I motioned at the wineglass, my
belly tightening in apprehension. Samuel had fought so hard
these past three weeks. This would set him back. I glanced
at the bottle beside him on the small table. It was still
mostly full except for the wine in his glass. “And is it
helping?”
 He chuckled darkly and finally set the glass down on the
small side table and took my hand instead. He kissed my
palm, the hint of stubble tickling my skin. “Never, and I
didn’t drink anything.”
I gave him a questioning look.
He leaned forward and kissed my lips, maybe so I could
confirm that he didn’t smell of alcohol or spearmint. “I
wanted to, believe me. It was a gift from the restaurant
manager, Renato’s grandfather. I fucking wanted that drink
after this long day, but even more than that, I wanted to be
stronger than a goddamn drink. I wanted to win against the
need to drink. I think I’ve been staring at the wine for close
to an hour before you arrived.”
“You didn’t drink. That’s all that matters,” I said. I knew
more battles would follow. Most of them would get easier
over time, some not.
“Yeah,” he murmured in a low voice, leaning forward and
pulling me closer. He brought my arm to his mouth and
dragged his lips over the sensitive spot on my wrist. I bit my
lip when the sensation traveled up my arm and through my
entire body until the tingling settled between my legs.
“The only thing that really helps after a day like this is
you,” he continued, his lips traveling higher and his tongue
darting out to taste my skin.
Goose bumps erupted all over my body, and my nipples
pebbled against the lace of my bra, becoming very apparent
through my thin silk blouse. Samuel hummed, his eyes
registering my body’s reaction to his touch. And I wasn’t the
only one who was affected. A tent was slowly building in his
pants.
Samuel grabbed me by the hips and hoisted me on his
lap. His growing erection pressed against my butt in an
unmistakable way. His lips returned to their discovery of my
body, now stroking along my shoulder. He unbuttoned my
blouse with steady fingers and slid it off my body, then
hooked a finger in my bra strap and slowly pulled it down,
laying one breast bare. My nipple was hard and lusting for
attention, but Samuel’s lips dragged over my collarbone,
and his fingertips simply stroked along my arm. My breast
tightened even more, and the accompanying tugging
between my legs made me shift so his cock pressed against
the spot that ached for attention. “Samuel,” I whispered
softly. “Touch me.”
Samuel’s lips brushed across my neck, but his hand
cupped my naked breast, finally. I arched into the touch, and
Samuel took one pebbled nipple between his fingers and
twirled it gently. His skin rubbing along my sensitive nub
sent a shiver down my body, and the skin of my breasts
became almost painfully tight. Finally, his mouth reached
mine, and I immediately kissed him. He growled against my
mouth, and his fingers on my breast tugged my nipples a bit
harder. Our tongues brushed, our pants mingling. I wrapped
my arm around Samuel’s neck, bringing us closer. His hand
left my breast and stroked along my bare belly, following
the dip between my legs to the hem of my skirt. He inched
it up, his fingertips raking along my inner thigh until they
arrived at my pussy.
Samuel groaned when his fingertips brushed my soaked
folds under my lace panties. “Your panties have to go.”
I smiled against his mouth, my cheeks becoming warm.
“You say that every day so maybe I should stop wearing
any.”
Samuel growled low in his throat. “While the thought is
very tempting,” he rumbled against my neck, his finger
rubbing my clit lightly. “I don’t want to risk anyone seeing
my pussy.”
“Your pussy, hmm?”
“Only my pussy,” Samuel said as he rubbed me harder,
making me moan deeply.
“Mm-hmm,” Samuel rasped as he slowly pushed his
middle finger into me. I clung harder to him, panting against
his cheek. I kissed it as he began to finger me leisurely. He
used his other hand to hold my skirt up so he could see his
finger sliding into me. It glistened with my arousal, and
soon, his knuckles did too. I’d been so worried about not
getting wet enough before I’d been with Samuel, but he
always got me so aroused that that concern seemed
ridiculous now.
He added another finger but kept up the slow rhythm,
allowing me to savor the sensual stroking of my inner walls.
He began to curl his fingers when they were deep inside me,
brushing a spot that made me clench every time he touched
it.
“More,” I gasped against his lips. Samuel pulled out his
fingers, to my disappointment. He stood with me in his arms
and put me in the armchair before he got out of his shirt,
revealing his six-pack and a myriad of scars.
I dragged my eyes over his body, my mouth practically
running dry when I unbuckled his belt and pulled down his
zipper, then slowly pulled down his pants and briefs. His
erection bobbed out, hard and glistening at the tip. I
immediately leaned forward, grabbed it, and took it into my
mouth.
Samuel hissed, grabbing my head. “God, Emma. While
this feels like heaven, this isn’t what I had in mind right
now.”
I pulled back, raising my eyebrows. “No?” A teasing smile
pulled at my mouth.
Samuel groaned, stroking my head. He didn’t stop me
when I sucked him into my mouth again and took care of
him for a while. Eventually, he gently pushed me back. He
picked me up again and settled back on the armchair. I gave
him a curious look, wondering what he had in mind. We
hadn’t tried me being on top yet, for obvious reasons. I
couldn’t support myself with my legs, but I trusted Samuel.
He’d know what to do and would make sure not to put me in
an uncomfortable position. Samuel leaned back until I lay
with my back against his stomach. He put his feet down on
the ground for leverage, then lined his cock up with my
pussy and entered me by shifting his hips upward.
I moaned deeply as he filled me completely. This position
didn’t allow as deep penetration as some others, but I loved
being pressed up to Samuel, and it was more comfortable
for me with my belly. Samuel hooked my legs over the
armrest and wrapped his arms around me as he claimed me
slowly.
I tilted my head to the side until our mouths found each
other.
Before we had dinner, Samuel dumped the wine in the
sink. I was proud of him for resisting despite being faced
with temptation.
Later in bed, when I lay in his arms, I told him as much.
He kissed my temple. “It’s nothing.”
“But it is. It takes enormous strength. I’m really proud of
you.”
My doctor pursed her lips. “Due to the nature of your
injuries, you probably won’t feel labor pains the same way
as someone without them does. You might feel them only
one-sided or not at all, though I don’t think the latter will be
the case.”
“But I will know when I’m in labor, right?”
“I’m sure you’ll feel something as you’re not a
paraplegic. But there is still the option that your womb can’t
produce contractions at all, which is why I’d recommend a
C-section.”
I nodded, trying to assure myself that it would be fine. I
didn’t want a C-section. I had endured so many surgeries in
my life. I didn’t want to have to go through one again unless
necessary. “And I will be able to push the baby out? To give
birth naturally?”
“At this point, I can’t give you a definite answer. The risk
of complications would definitely decrease if you opted for a
C-section.”
“So you think it’s safer for the baby?”
She nodded. I sighed, then glanced at Samuel, who had
simply listened. I knew he was in favor of a C-section
because he worried for the baby’s and my safety, but he
wanted me to decide.
“It’s your decision.”
“If this is about you being scared of witnessing the C-
section, there’s still the option of anesthesia.”
I hated feeling helpless, so that wasn’t an option. Despite
my anxiety, I agreed to have a C-section two weeks before
my due date.

I woke up, not sure why. Something felt off. I blinked into the
dark, listening to Samuel’s reassuring breathing beside
mine, glad for his presence. Glad that the days I’d find him
in his office drunk in the middle of the night were over.
I pushed myself to the edge of the bed, then froze
because the sheets were wet. I swallowed. Has my water
broken? “Samuel,” I whispered.
He stirred immediately, and the bed shifted. “Hmm?”
“I think my water broke.”
The lights came on at once. It took me a few heartbeats
before I saw Samuel. Then I glanced down. The sheets were
definitely wet.
I touched my belly. It was very hard. I didn’t feel what I’d
consider labor pains, more a sort of strong cramping and
pressure.
“Are you in labor?”
 I listened into my body, searching for signs. I felt full. As
if I needed to go to the toilet for a shit. “I feel pressure. It’s
bearing down.”
“Okay.” Samuel frowned. “Let’s go to the hospital.”
I hesitated. It was still seventeen days until my due date.
I didn’t want to appear like a hysterical first-time mother
who went to the hospital because she ate something wrong.
Samuel reached for his phone. “Then I’ll call my mother.
She’ll know what to do.”
“It’s the middle of the night!”
Samuel ignored my comment and put the phone to his
ear. “Sorry for waking you, but Emma’s feeling off. Her
water broke, and she feels pressure, but she isn’t in labor
yet.”
I bit my lip, suddenly unsure. I touched my belly again. It
felt as if it was smaller and hung lower. Was I imagining
things?
The cramps definitely got worse.
Samuel nodded. “My mother’s on her way. She thinks we
should go to the hospital.”
I pulled my wheelchair closer. “Let me go to the toilet.” I
rolled into our bathroom, but following my intuition, I
reached between my legs and froze. Something was off. I
pushed two fingers into me and swallowed. I felt hair. I
jerked my hand back. “Samuel!” I shouted.
He staggered inside, a shirt half pulled down his chest.
“What?”
“I feel the head.”
Samuel stared at me blankly, searching the top of my
head, then his eyes widened, and his gaze dropped to my
crotch. My nightgown was covering everything.
“Samuel? Emma?” Ines called from downstairs.
“Mom! The baby is almost out!” Samuel shouted.
Ines rushed in a few seconds later, her eyes wide.
“I could feel hair when I felt for it,” I said, feeling
completely overwhelmed.
 Ines nodded, then motioned to Samuel. “Call an
ambulance immediately. Your father is downstairs.”
Ines touched my shoulder. “Come on, Emma, let’s get
you comfortable.”
I allowed her to push my wheelchair toward the bed.
“What if the baby’s stuck in the birth canal? What if it’s
been stuck for a while? What if it can’t breathe?” Fear
choked me. I didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. I
wanted to be surprised.
“Everything’s going to be fine.”
Soon, sirens sounded close by. Samuel disappeared to let
the paramedics in.
Everything else was a rush. I was lifted on a stretcher,
and we managed to reach the hospital in time. We arrived in
the delivery room, and a midwife touched my shoulder
before she took her position between my legs. When our
baby’s rhythmic heartbeat sounded, I breathed a sigh of
relief. “Explain to me what exactly you’re feeling.”
“I feel pressure down there as if I need to go to the
toilet.”
“Can you give in to the pressure just like you would when
you go to the toilet?”
I nodded, and suddenly, the pain increased drastically.
What had been an intense, uncomfortable pressure before
became hard to tolerate.
“Now?”
I did. The pressure shifted, but continued and so did the
pain. “Good, pause.”
I stopped.
Samuel held my hand, looking disheveled and concerned.
“Is everything okay?”
The midwife didn’t look away from me but nodded.
“We’re in the home stretch.”
I almost laughed at her wording, but then she said,
“Again.”
 And I tried to allow the pressure once more despite the
intense pain. This went on for a while until I felt like I
couldn’t go on anymore. “The head’s out! Give me your
hand.”
I gave her my hand, and she put it on a small head. I
swallowed, completely stunned.
“Ready for another push?”
I nodded even though I wasn’t. This time, the pressure
lessened considerably, and suddenly, the midwife put a
baby on my chest. I stared down at the small human, then
at Samuel, unable to believe that I’d given birth. And then I
began crying, impossibly grateful for what my body had
accomplished, how far it had taken me, and what kind of gift
it had just given me. I’d never hate it again for small
mishaps, not after the miracle it had just granted me.
I touched my baby and kissed its head. Samuel rubbed
my back, his face alight with awe.
“What is it?” I whispered after a while. Samuel seemed to
have forgotten all about finding out the gender of our baby.
The midwife smiled and showed us. “A little boy.”
I sobbed, still completely overwhelmed.
Samuel wrapped an arm around me and kissed my
temple. He looked a little dazed too, as if everything had
gone too fast, and in some way, it had.
“He was worth fighting for, don’t you think?” I whispered,
peering down at our baby.
“I fought for you and him because you both are worth it.”
Samuel touched his forehead to mine. “I’m so glad you
pushed me so hard. I would have never forgiven myself if
something had happened to either of you because I wasn’t
strong enough to resist.”
“It’s the past. This is our future.” I stroked our son’s tiny
head. “Sergio Mione.”
When Emma finally fell asleep with Sergio on her chest, I
picked up my phone and called Danilo. He picked up after
the second ring. “Samuel.”
The word was clipped. He was still pissed at me for the
accident. “Emma gave birth to a son.”
Silence. “Is she okay? How is he? Are they in the
hospital?”
“They’re both asleep, but he’s perfectly healthy, and
Emma is exhausted but happy. I thought you’d want to
know.”
“Thanks for giving me a call,” Danilo said.
“I’ll send you a couple of photos. Will you and Sofia visit
soon?”
“I’m looking at flights as we speak. I could book one for
tomorrow.”
“Then take that one. You should meet your nephew.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He cleared his throat. “See
you then.”
His voice was almost friendly. Maybe he and I would find
a way to start over.
I picked five of the fifty photos plus a video I had taken
and sent them to Danilo, Sofia, Giorgia, my parents, and
Emma’s mother, then I hesitated.
“You look sad,” Emma whispered, startling me.
She gave me a tired smile.
“Not sad. A little wistful, perhaps.”
“Why?”
“I just sent our families and Giorgia a few photos, and I
realized one person was missing.”
“Serafina.”
I nodded.
I hadn’t messaged her in almost a year, but I realized
that I didn’t want to strike her out of my life completely.
“Send her a message. I’m sure she’d love to see Sergio.”
I nodded. She would be happy for me. She had kept
writing me even though I never replied. I picked a few
photos that didn’t give any hints to our exact whereabouts,
then sent them to my twin.
To my surprise, she came online almost instantly and
replied.
Oh Sam. He looks like you as a baby. I’m so
happy for you.
Emma took my hand and squeezed. After a moment, I
put my phone aside. I’d message Fina again later. Right
now, I wanted to focus on my wife and son.
Emma’s eyelids fluttered again.
“Sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
Emma nodded, her lids drooping.
Once again, I was in awe of my wife as I watched her
hold our son. I was overwhelmed with gratitude and
happiness, and also with a lot of smugness because Emma
giving me an heir would piss off all the gossip girls who
thought she was a bad deal when I married her. I would
have still worshipped her—even if she hadn’t been able to
do so, something these ignorant scarecrows would never
understand—but flaunting our happiness in their faces
would definitely be very satisfying.
 Emma had always taken their rumors and tasteless
comments with dignity, not deigning them with a reaction.
I’d often wanted to lash out at them and still wanted to, but
I knew it wasn’t what Emma wanted. She was too classy and
way better than any of them.
They didn’t bother looking past her wheelchair. Fools. In
the very beginning, before I’d gotten to know her, I’d
definitely shared some of their ignorance.
Now I only saw Emma, the woman who’d helped me claw
my way out of a dark place where I’d started feeling way too
at home. The woman who’d stood by me with love and
patience even when I failed, even when I lied to her to hide
my failing.
The people who only saw her wheelchair, who thought
that piece of metal defined who she was and told them
anything about her as a person, I pitied them because they
missed out.
Emma was the strongest human I’d ever met. She fought
her battles with grace, a trait I was still trying to adopt but
often failed at. She was a survivor, and it showed every day.
She’d taught me how to be one too, how to survive guilt and
addiction and come out stronger.
Emma and our son looked peaceful in sleep, and I too felt
at peace at that moment.
I didn’t believe in fate, but there was no other
explanation for what had happened. I knew with certainty
that Emma was the perfect woman for me, the only woman
who could have helped me the way Emma did.
She was my fate, and every dark moment of my life had
led me to her, which was why I could finally make peace
with my past.
I kissed her hand that I was still holding. I had arrived in
the present. Finally.

THE END
 Thank you so much for reading A Touch of Fate. I
know many of you have been waiting for this book for
many years, and I can’t express how much it means
to me to finally be able to share it with you. I’d be
grateful if you could leave an honest review for
Emma and Samuel’s story!
Lots of love,
Cora
Cora is the USA Today and International Bestselling author
of the Born in Blood Mafia Series, the Camorra Chronicles,
and many other books, most of them featuring dangerously
sexy bad boys. She likes her men like her martinis—dirty
and strong. Her books have been translated into eighteen
languages.
Cora lives in Germany with her young daughter and son, a
cute but crazy Bearded Collie, as well as the cute but crazy
man at her side. When she doesn’t spend her days
dreaming up sexy books, she plans her next travel
adventure or cooks too spicy dishes from all over the world.