Dirty Look - Dark Desires

“You’re so brave,” I tell her. “And so reckless. You’re gonna spend more time over my lap than sitting upright, you know that?”

We’re sitting in the waiting room at the hospital. Piero’s fine, thank fuck, but we were asked to wait out here. An elderly couple across from us looks at us in wide-eyed surprise, but I don’t give a fuck who hears us.

“I know,” she says. “But did you hear what my father said? That’s all that matters!”

I heard him alright.

“You put a ring on her finger and make an honest woman out of her and I’ll let you live.”

He blustered and fumed but in the end, he knows. There is no one Mia’s safer with than me.

“And what about Davo?” I ask him.

I roll my eyes. “Emilio’s sorted him out. Seems Davo gave us more information than he thought. Kid got in over his head, yeah, but the truth is, without him, I’m not sure we’d have known exactly how to put an end to the threat against you.”

“So you’re not gonna kill him?”

“Not tonight.”

The couple across from us stands up and hurries away. Good. I’m about to kiss this girl, and it might cause a few eyebrows to raise, but I don’t fucking care.

“Come here,” I say, drawing her onto my lap. She cuddles right in, wrapping her arm around me.

“I’m putting in my resignation at the school. You can stay here. Your dad’s made me captain of the Boston crew.”

“No Calabria anytime soon, then?” she asks, tracing the collar of my shirt with her index finger. “You sure?”

“Where do you think we’ll honeymoon?” I ask. I give her a grin. “Thought you wanted gelato?”

She grins. “I do. Oh my God, that’s perfect.” She pauses, then says, “I love you.”

I hold her to me. “You’re perfect, and I love you, Mia.”

She’s brave and honest, smart and witty, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with her, even though she’ll keep me on my fucking toes until the day I die.Epilogue“Limon. No! Stracciatella. No, wait! Cioccolato!”

My lips quirk up in a smile as Mia tries to figure out which kind of gelato she wants to order. We’re outside her favorite gelato place in all of Calabria. She’s still wearing her beautiful lacy wedding dress, and I swear the eyes of every single person are on her. I suppose it’s not traditional to take a quick break to grab gelato on your honeymoon, but she wanted it, and my girl gets what she wants.

Within reason, of course. And this one small request was within reason.

I lean over her and place our order. “We’ll take one of each.”

“I can’t possibly eat all of it,” she says.

I lean in and kiss my wife’s beautiful pink cheek. “I’ll help you.”

She lifts her brows and gives me a coy lift. “What if I don’t like to share?” she says in that seductive purr that makes a low growl rise in my chest.

“What if I don’t give you a choice?”

She grabs me by the tie and yanks me over to her, kissing me full on the lips to cheers and cat-calls around us. A moment later, we’re getting back into our limo with a cup of gelato in each hand. We only have a ten minute drive to our new home, a large, rambling villa on the outskirts of one of Piero Russo’s vineyards. We’ll only be here for a little while, though. Mia starts school in a few weeks, and I’ll be going with her. I’ll be her bodyguard, but this time it isn’t punishment but a choice. I won’t let wearing my wedding band keep her away from her hopes and dreams.

It was a smallish wedding for the family, but my family joined hers as we took our vows and Piero Russo gave us his blessing. We’ve settled things in Boston, leaving Mia out of all the details. Suffice it to say, she’s almost as safe there now as she is in Calabria.

We got an apartment right on the waterfront. Safe. Private. Ours. I’m almost happy to leave Calabria this time, because all that matters is that Mia will be with me.

She gleefully licks from one cup to the next, and I gaze at her, not even bothering to hide my admiration. I watch her tongue capture the light yellow lemon flavor, then the chocolate. So beautiful. She leans in to taste mine, and I pull it away. “Not so fast, little girl. You need to ask permission before you lick mine.”

She grins and pouts.

“And no pouting,” I say, shaking my head. “Even married women like you can get turned over knees.”

Her brows furrow.

“Are you giving me a dirty look?” I ask.

She flushes pink, bites her lip, and shakes her head. So fucking beautiful.

“Please, sir?” she asks, giving me that pretty grin that does me in every time, her words like a spell. Magic.