Mafia War by L. Steele

37

Michael

Her features crumple and tears run down her cheeks. My heart stutters and the pulse pounds at my temples. I reach for her at the same time that she throws herself at me. I pull her into my lap, wrap my arms around her, yank her into my chest, as I surround her with every part of me I can.

"Bellezza," I murmur, "my Beauty, I missed you, my love."

She only cries harder and my heart feels like it’s about to crack open.

"Please, Karma, don’t cry," I plead. "I can’t stand to see you like this, piccola."

She turns her face into my shirt, grabs handfuls, and holds on as if she can’t bear to be parted again. I rock her and run my fingers across her hair, say words to soothe her that make no sense, but it doesn’t seem to help.

I tuck her head under my chin, glance out at the now awakening city. "She walks in beauty, like the night,"

I begin to recite.

"Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright."

Her sobs quieten.

"Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

She hiccups, then seems to compose herself.

"One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;"

I glance down to see her eyes closed as she listens.

"Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place."

I continue.

"And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!"

She draws in a breath, then rubs her cheek against my shirt. We sit there in silence as the sun rises overhead. Finally, she stirs and looks up at me. Her eyes are swollen, her nose reddened by her crying jag. Her beautiful lips are pink and moist. I catch myself leaning in toward her and pull back. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and she shivers.

"Are you cold? I can give you my coat—"

"No," she shakes her head, "the heat of your body is all I need to keep warm. The scent of your skin is all I need to turn me on. The fire in your eyes…" she swallows, " is all I need to consume me. To take me. To mark me as your own. The darkness inside of you," she pushes her palm into my chest, "is my own. I know that now."

I tip her chin up, "When did you get so poetic?"

"Says the man who quotes Byron," her lips tremble in a ghost of a smile. "Why are you named after him?"

"It’s a family tradition." I peer into her features, "Every first-born takes it as one of the given names."

"That whole four name thing... It’s daunting." She blows out a breath, "Imagine giving birth to a baby and saddling him with a name that long."

"Would you have minded if I had done that with our child?"

She blinks rapidly and a lone tear slides down her cheek.

"Cazzo!" I didn’t mean to bring that up.

"No, it’s good," she swallows, "we should talk about it. It’s healthy to talk about it, rather than hiding it away and pretending it didn’t happen."

"I miss him" I murmur. "I miss our baby, and I never even knew him or her."

"Me too," she glances away, "sometimes I wake up from my sleep and am sure that I can hear the patter of a child’s footsteps outside my bedroom door."

I draw in a breath. "Beauty," I cup her cheek, "I am so sorry for what happened."

"It’s not your fault," she tips up her chin, "it is one of the reasons I felt like I had to leave, though."

My heart begins to race. Subconsciously, I had been aware that she may well blame me for the loss of our child, but hearing her say it aloud, makes my stomach knot.

"What were the other reasons?"

"Seeing you almost killed in front of me."

I open my mouth and she shakes her head, "I know, that’s rich coming from someone who almost killed you." She raises a shoulder, "But things change. I stopped trying to get at you, but I forgot that there’s an entire world out there who is out to get you."

"He’s gone," I say in a low voice. "My father, who was the culprit behind everything that happened, is dead."

"The rival gangs—"

"I have made my peace with JJ and Nikolai. The Kane Company and the Bratva have proved themselves as my allies."

"There will be other gangs," she murmurs. "There will always be someone who’ll want to get to you, who’ll try to use me to get to you."

"That’s the price I pay for my past." I square my shoulders, "It’s where I come from, but…"

"But?"

"But it needn’t be the future that we bring our children into."

"What are you saying?" she whispers. "Do you mean that—"

"With my father no longer involved in the Cosa Nostra, I have the chance to change the course of what is to come. I plan to legalize our businesses, something I have been working on for a while now."

"You have?"

I nod, "I have created a framework that I can use to capitalize both the real-world operations and the virtual businesses."

"But won’t that counter the ground you have gained with the rival gangs? Surely, they are not going to be on board with that plan?"

I narrow my gaze on her. Beautiful and clever. This woman is more than capable of holding her own against my brothers, of going toe-to-toe with me, of partnering with me in the truest sense.

"Not if I show them that the legal businesses can be as lucrative as our illicit ones."

"Oh," she swallows, "you’d do that for me?"

"It won't be easy. And it will take some time to unravel the intricacies of our businesses, and a hell of a ton of paperwork to figure out the best way to legitimize them. But yeah," I nod, "I'd do it for us, for our children, for my brothers, so they have a chance to live life to the fullest. Without having to constantly protect themselves and their loved ones from the threat of danger."

"Mika," she whispers, "please don’t think that I am forcing you to do this. I know I left you, but I never meant for it to act as some kind of coercion to make you give up your way of life."

"I am merely changing lanes." I rub my thumb across her cheek. "I am smart enough to know when I need to adapt and change with the times. It’s something my father wasn’t good at, and look where that got him."

"I am sorry you had to…" she swallows, "that you had to…"

"Kill him?" I blow out a breath, "Me too. I am probably going to hell for it, but... I am going to hell anyway, so..." I raise a shoulder.

"It’s something you are going to have to come to terms with. He may have been responsible for so much evil, but he was still your flesh and blood."

"So was Xander." I firm my lips. "It’s because of my father that my mother died so early. He is the one who kidnapped the Seven when they were boys."

"That... I suspected."

"You did?"

She nods. "When Summer told me that I needed a bodyguard because the Mafia may be after me...? Well, initially, I thought it was because my father had betrayed you guys, but then I realized, there was more to it than that." She tips up her chin, "Then, I met your father and realized just how evil he was. That he was capable of doing things that were so morally wrong... The kinds of things you and your brothers wouldn't be involved in. I guessed, then, that there had to be more of a connection between the Mafia and the Seven. That, possibly, the Mafia was behind their kidnapping when they were children. I couldn’t reconcile you doing that. But your father? Now, he could be capable of anything."

"Including emotionally and physically abusing me and my brothers." I roll my shoulders, "It's because of him that we are so fucked up inside."

"You’re not…fucked up." She bites the inside of her cheek, "Well, not completely, anyway."

I chuckle, "Is that a compliment?"

"Would it be terrible if I admitted that your twisted-upness is what attracted me to you in the first place?"

"Is that right?" I can’t stop the smirk that curls my lips.

She glances away, "This doesn’t mean I have forgiven you for everything you did, or that I am returning to you."

"You are, though."

"I am?" She frowns.

"You bet." I slide my hand inside my pocket and withdraw her wedding ring. I slide it onto her left ring finger and we both stare at it. "Admit that you missed the weight of it on your finger, that you—" I lower her onto the grass, on her back, and push my body between her legs, "miss the weight of me between your thighs?"

Her pupils dilate as I push the evidence of my arousal—which has been stretching my crotch since I sat down next to her—into her center.

I grind into her and she moans. I begin to dry hump her and she shudders. I press my thumb in between her lips and thrust it inside her mouth in an action that mirrors what I want to do to her when I am finally inside her. Her entire body shudders. She sucks on my thumb and the blood rushes to my groin.

"Fuck," I growl. "F-u-c-k, Bellezza, what you do to me with your little cries, your moans, the way you wriggle your body against mine, in a sign that you are aroused."

"I am not aroused," she protests.

"Is that right?" I slide my finger down her waistband, inside her panties and thrust my finger inside her.

She gasps. "Oh, hell," she warbles, "oh, bloody hell."

"Indeed." I pull out my finger, glistening with the evidence of her arousal, and bring it to my mouth. I suck on it and a whine bleeds from her.

"What do you want, Beauty?" I lower my voice to a hush, "Tell me."

"You," she swallows, "I want you."

That’s when Andy prowls over to us.