Fragile Longing

I kissed her again and began thrusting. Sofia arched under another orgasm and I couldn’t hold back either. With a shudder, I came inside of her. My vision turned black for a moment, and I could barely breathe from the intensity. I let my forehead sink down on Sofia’s neck, breathing in her sweet scent. She softened under me and I traced my fingertips over her throat, feeling her racing pulse.

“That was intense,” I admitted, my voice hoarse.

“Remote,” Sofia whispered. I fumbled for the control and turned off the vibrations. We remained connected, and when I opened my eyes, Sofia was smiling exhaustedly. A few months ago, she’d cut her hair into a bob with bangs again and now it was all over the place. Her bangs stuck to her forehead and the rest of her hair stood out to all ends. Her face was red, her lips swollen. I smiled. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Mrs. Mancini. I love you.”

I paused, surprised by the words, not by their meaning. My feelings for Sofia had grown more every day. I was shocked that my pride had allowed me to admit to them.

Sofia blinked, then burst out laughing. Not quite the reaction I’d expected. When she calmed down, she said, “If I’d known it would take this to make you say it, I’d have let you have a go at my ass more often.”

I laughed, realizing the absurdity. I carefully pulled out of her and we quickly freshened up. Once we were halfway presentable, I pulled Sofia against me once more. “I mean it.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I love you, too.” I kissed her, then ran my thumb over her swollen lip. She traced it with her tongue, then took out a lipstick to cover up any trace of what we’d done.

“I liked it better when I could see what we’ve been doing.”

She gave me a coy look and unlocked the door, poking her head out. Then she opened it all the way and hurried outside. I smirked at her obvious worry of being caught and followed a few steps after her, giving her time to enter the living area alone. We’d opened the sliding doors to the dining area to create enough room for all the guests.

Marco waved me over and handed me a drink. “You look fucking delirious.”

I smiled. “Not delirious, just content.” For maybe the first time in my life, I felt really content.

He gave me a questioning look. “I told you marrying Sofia would have positive effects in the long run. A younger woman always gets your blood pumping.”

“Bria gets your blood pumping, too, but you don’t seem content,” I joked.

“Very funny. You keep your young wife happy and I’ll deal with mine.”

My eyes darted across the room to where Sofia was talking to Bria. When Sofia noticed my gaze, she gave me one of those secretive smiles.My heart seemed to beat in my throat. I hadn’t seen Serafina in so many years. I wondered if it would be like meeting a stranger. Talking to someone on the phone just wasn’t the same as seeing someone. We’d been talking weekly in the year since I’d married Danilo, but there was always a bit of distance between us because so many topics were off limits.

Would it be awkward?

I fumbled with my purse, suddenly nervous, which was funny, considering the reason I should really be worrying was because I was meeting with the enemy. Even though Fina was my sister, she was now regarded as part of the Camorra and thus the Outfit’s—and my—enemy. Mafia politics were unforgiving and indifferent to familial bonds. Once someone was deemed a traitor, emotional bonds didn’t matter anymore.

If Danilo knew I was here, he’d be furious. He hated the Camorra and Remo Falcone with a fiery passion. His feelings toward my sister were harder to guess. He didn’t like talking about her, and I’d opted to pretend that she’d never been part of his life. From his last remarks, it seemed he hated her, too, which was why I knew he’d be against our reunion.

A car pulled up in the parking lot in the middle of nowhere in Missouri that we’d chosen as the meeting point. Danilo was on a business trip in Chicago and I’d stayed home, blaming my college workload. I’d snuck out very early in the morning and taken a rental car. It was now early in the afternoon, and I’d sent Carlo a message telling him I was sick in bed and needed time to rest.

When the car stopped, my heart started to race. The door on the driver side opened, and a tall dark-haired man got out. Fear slithered through my veins when I recognized his face as Remo Falcone. I took a step back, on the verge of running back to my car, when the passenger door opened and Fina appeared. She smiled brightly. My eyes darted from her to her husband. What if this was a trap? Falcone had no qualms when it came to kidnapping. If I got into the Camorra’s hands, my family would be destroyed once and for all, and Danilo would never forgive me.