When the sun rises the next morning, I feel like a completely different person. I went from being a miserable bastard to being the luckiest man in the world. Cleo is coming back to New York with me. There’s a weird stuttering inside my chest at the thought of having her in my home again.
Our home.
I plan on telling her she can redecorate all she wants. We’ll even get a damned dog if it makes her happy, but under the condition that the creature will make no attempts to keep me away from her.
My bag of clothes is sitting by the closet, so I pull on a shirt and a pair of pants and leave the guest bedroom in search of my wife. I tried to convince Cleo to spend the night with me after we came back from the concert, but she refused, telling me she wanted to take it slowly. My stomach sank with disappointment, my body not at all onboard with that idea. Still, I knew I couldn’t push her last night. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.
I’m ten feet away from her room when the door opens, and she pops out in a black tank top and a pair of cut-off jean shorts. I have to hold back my groan. Fuck, she looks good enough to devour.
She sees me and smiles, but it fades when she notices the expression on my face. I must look like a predator eyeing its prey.
I walk up to her, trying to act normal and failing. My fists clench. I want her so fucking badly. I can’t believe the nonsense I told myself about getting bored with her. That’s never going to happen. I’m obsessed and I’m always going to be fucking obsessed.
Cleo’s eyes follow me, and when I stop right in front of her, they drop to my lips. The smattering of freckles across her nose is more prominent from the sun she’s been getting here. I want to kiss each one of them. I want to run my fingers through her hair and feel the softness of her skin. I want her writhing beneath me, begging me to fuck her. My dick jolts at the visual.
She bites on her bottom lip. “You’re staring.”
“I know.” I raise my hand and brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes grow hooded, and she leans into my touch. “Kiss me.”
My skin buzzes. I press my lips to hers, possessive and hungry. Her hands go around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair as she opens her mouth to me. I groan at the feel of her tongue teasing mine and lose myself in her sweet taste.
We announce our reconciliation shortly after.
Everyone’s over at De Rossis’ for brunch, and when Cleo breaks the news that she’s coming back to New York with me, there’s a full gamut of reactions. Valentina’s eyes narrow on me in a skeptical glare, Gemma gives me a pleased smile, and Mari lets out a breath of relief.
The men manage to hide their feelings better, with the exception of Ras, who opens his big mouth and says, “Are you sure, Cleo? If you want to ask us to dispose of him, now’s the time to do it.”
“Why’s that?” I drawl. After what happened with Nero, my opinion of the fucker has marginally improved, but maybe that was premature.
“You’re here alone and defenseless.”
“Defenseless? I could take you down with this butter knife if I wanted to.”
Ras snickers. “What are you waiting for then?”
“For the mood to strike.”
Cleo clears her throat. “Okay, enough.”
“He started it,” I mutter, shoving some eggs in my mouth.
“What are you, five?” Ras asks.
This fucker. “Put your dog back on his leash, De Rossi.”
Gemma reaches over and places her hand on his forearm. “Ras.”
He grins. “Look, I’m just making sure he can handle the heat if he’s really joining the family.”
“I am most certainly not joining your family.”
Cleo gives me a pointed look. “You are, Rafe. This is my family. So you’ve just acquired three annoying brothers.”
“I would prefer not to be included in that unflattering category,” Giorgio says, methodically cutting into a piece of tomato.
Cleo gives him an amused look. “Okay, two annoying brothers and Giorgio.”
I sigh. Fuck me. I really am stuck with these Casalesi idiots now, aren’t I? Not only because of Cleo, but because of Nero too.
After all, few things bring people closer than a secret.
“I suppose I’ll have to get used to it,” I say with a resigned shrug. “As I once told my accountant, whatever my wife wants, my wife gets.”
“Oh?” Valentina peers at me over her cappuccino. “Do I sense a good story?”
“You never told them?” I ask Cleo.
Her cheeks turn an alluring shade of pink. It reminds me of another part of her body that’s an alluring shade of pink. “No,” she answers.
“Ah.” I dab my napkin against the corner of my mouth. “It all starts with this list.”
Cleo’s eyes widen. “You know about the list?”
“I know about everything, my darling. I found it just the other day.”
“I’m lost,” Gemma says, her arms resting on her protruding belly. “What list?”
“Cleo’s plan for ruining Rafaele’s life,” Cleo and I say at the same time.
There’s a beat, and then everyone bursts out laughing.
“Seriously?” Valentina asks. “We’re going to need to hear the rest of it.”
Cleo giggles as she recites the rest of the list before jumping into the story about her attempt to bankrupt me. I sip on coffee and observe my stunning wife for a long moment before glancing at the rest of the people around the table. The mood is light, and laughter filters through the air. A warm feeling settles inside my chest.
Maybe this family isn’t so bad after all. One day Cleo and I will have our own family. This time, there is no fear accompanying that thought. No panic. No hesitation. Only breathless joy.
CLEO
The list story distracts Ras from egging on Rafe any further, and we manage to wrap up brunch without anyone’s blood being spilled.
Phew. I was getting worried for a hot second there.
Even now, as everyone settles in the living room, I observe the Casalesi men. For all their bickering with Rafe, they’ve got more in common than they realize. For one, they’re all huge, handsome, and hardheaded. They’re all extremely protective of their women, of course. And despite being who they are, they’ve got a moral code they follow. Their word means something, and they don’t hurt people just for the sake of it.
None of them are like my father or Rafaele’s father, and that gives me hope. Hope that under their leadership, this world we’re all in might not be so bad after all.
Who knows, maybe with time, these four mobsters might actually become friends.
“Tesoro?”
I blink, snapping out of my reverie. Rafaele is standing in front of me holding two mimosas. He hands one to me. “Care for a walk around the property?”
I take the glass from him. “What are we celebrating?”
He gives me a crooked smile. “Us.”