She yelled it, actually.
The look on everyone’s faces—priceless.
Junior looked ready to choke on his tongue to keep himself from laughing, and everyone else simply just did their jobs.
They fucking left me alone with her the way I wanted it.
The door closes.
“S-sorry.” Her hair’s back in a braid I want to tug so I can have more access to her neck, and she’s barely wearing any makeup at all; her skin’s perfect, she’s perfect. “Was that important?”
She’s also wearing entirely too many clothes.
A black Nike sweatshirt and matching pants along with flip-flops seem to be the only barrier between me and more of that sweet skin.
I almost laugh because it’s life or death important, but so is our current scenario where I need her and need to know she’s fully mine—finally mine.
“No.” I find my voice, my eyes rake over her, up and down, down and up, until they land on hers and stay there. “Not as important as this.”
“I’m not leaving.” She has the audacity to stare me down, to look into my eyes and not look away, and I love her even more for it. I love her for barging into a room full of powerful men and announcing herself without giving a shit. I love that she doesn’t look away from me.
I love that the only fear she has is for me, not from me.
She’s so fucking strong and doesn’t even realize her own strength. She’s everything I wanted. All I hoped for.
“You’re everything I need,” I say.
She takes a step forward and then stops. Her hands move to her sweatshirt. She quickly peels it from her body and tosses it onto the floor; she kicks her sweats off right after, she’s not wearing any bra or underwear, her flip-flops are next, and then she’s naked in front of me, completely naked in what is now my office.
Two more steps, three, and she’s in the light standing in front of me. I hold my breath, unsure of what she’s about to do, when she leans in and reaches behind my body; hers is warm, pressed naked against my clothes. Her nipples hard against my T-shirt.
When her right hand comes back, it’s with one of my dad’s old daggers that he keeps on his desk.
It’s also sharp as hell.
I don’t flinch.
I trust her. So I wait.
She holds it between us and then, in a flash, slices it across her palm. Droplets of blood start falling from her fingertips as she turns her hand upward; blood continues to pool.
She reaches for my right hand and does the same to me.
I expect her to press our palms together.
And she does, but then she puts my palm against her naked chest and does the same with hers against my shirt, the blood soaking slowly through the cotton and touching my skin. “Until it ends.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Until it ends.”
“I, Del Buratti take King Campisi, my love, my husband, and my new Capo to live with, to share the broken fragments of the crown of the Kingdom with even if the shards bring us death, until the end, I’ll walk by your side and carry the burden. Until it ends.”
I open my mouth to repeat what she said, and I don’t have words; I can’t even form them. I grip her wrists, then, in a semi-bloody mess, reach for her head and pull her up for a kiss, not caring that blood’s still on my hand, on hers, on both of our bodies.
It seems right somehow.
That I’d be in that office, blood dripping from our fingertips vows spoken, kissing.
She jumps into my arms, sending me stumbling back against the desk; her left hand goes to my jeans and shoves them down. I kick them down while she pushes my briefs down next, and then I’m flipping her onto the desk; her back collides with a few black folders as they go flying. I shove them from the desk and join her on top of it. I guide myself inside her slowly. Blood cakes parts of her cheeks, her arms, and her chest.
Ours.
Ours.
Ours.
I repeat it over and over again as I move inside her.
“It had to be this way,” she says, clinging to my biceps. “I needed it to be this way.”
“Never easy.” I steal a kiss, tug on her lips with my teeth and kiss her again while her nails dig into my arms, pulling me closer, making my movements faster as she fights me, joins me, only to fight the again.
I’m falling into the deep.
I’m going under.
And for the first time, I’m not afraid.
I welcome the waves against my body, against my skin, and I smile when her hand is the one I’m holding while we sink.
It might end today.
Tomorrow.
Years from now.
But until it ends… we have each other.
And that’s all I can ask for.