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The high of her body dissipated as she relaxed into his arms. He lifted his head, crushing her against him in the warmest hug. “You’re a wet dream, Bea. I think you just had a nipple orgasm.”
She blinked, rubbing her nose against him. “Is that possible?”
His chin rubbed over the top of her head. “How do you feel? Is the edge off, and you’re a little tired?”
She wanted to curl into him and tell him to hold her through a nap. At least his hot water seemed limitless. The steam around them made her feel almost dreamy. “Yeah,” she said. “But we have that meeting.”
“There’s time. Let me clean you off, and then I’d like to hold you for a while.” He pulled away, angling her toward the spray.
Watching him wash his cum off of her skin made her heartbeat pulse inside her.
“I’d like that,” she admitted, content to let him take care of her limp body.
Chapter 23
Montrell kept his eyes on Beatrice as she spoke with her father. Santino Lucchese had his back to the corner. Cornered rats tended to lash out, and if the man did, Montrell would get to end him.
“She said she’d take care of him,” Vespa murmured.
“I’d rather she just let me kill him,” Montrell said, intentionally not murmuring.
Beatrice and her father both looked his way. She was smiling, with a softening to her features that Montrell adored.
She had come to the joint meeting of La Cosa Nostra families looking absolutely stunning. The maroon dress she wore covered her arms again, though she no longer wore the bangles. The plunging neckline was deeper than ever, skimming along one of the scars he had traced in the shower. A slit up each thigh flashed skin when she walked, and her makeup made her eyes look smoky somehow.
There were five families in La Cosa Nostra, and all of the dons except Giovanni had followed Beatrice with their eyes when she’d entered the Di Salvos’ conference room. Giovanni had given them both a nod, then dipped his head to say something to Nera. Lucchese’s eyes had glittered as he stared, a promise in them that Montrell wanted to break, and the other two older men had stared at her like property.
Beatrice was nobody’s property, and Montrell was already willing to demolish this meeting of the families to make that point.
It hadn’t helped when Beatrice squeezed his arm and then isolated her father to make her own point. The man’s expression had turned pasty, so it seemed he understood what she said, more’s the pity.
“Here they come,” Vespa warned under her breath.
The heads of the other two families had hard, blank faces. Leandro Barone had gone fully gray since Montrell had last seen him. He had always worn the fanciest suits, and today’s attire was no exception. Even though he was the oldest one there, the man was fit, a force to be reckoned with. Like Montrell’s own father, Barone ruled through fear. His reputation had been earned.
Franco Rossi had more of a nervous twinge to his jowly neck. He held his expression firm with effort. He was shorter and heavier than Montrell remembered. The man wore way too many rings, including one he nervously twisted as he approached. He had a new, young fiancée, or at least that was what Montrell had heard. The rumors about what had happened to Rossi’s last two wives had made it necessary for the man to look for someone outside of the life.
Montrell didn’t understand why Di Salvo had any interest in consolidating La Cosa Nostra. The older generation would be better off placed in the ground.
Barone looked toward Beatrice. “You married the Lucchese daughter?”
“She’s a Coronella,” Montrell said, his gaze level as the man’s dark one flicked back to him. After what Lucchese had done, or failed to do, he didn’t want her associated with the family name.
Rossi harrumphed. “Of course she’s yours. We’re simply surprised.”
Montrell’s gaze narrowed, words he didn’t say boiling inside. It always came down to ownership, even though that wasn’t what he’d meant.
Vespa stepped on the edge of his foot, warning him to keep from making a mess she’d have to clean up.
“We should get down to business.” Rossi’s gaze lingered on Beatrice. “Isn’t it time to send the wives away?”
“No. If having women here makes you uncomfortable, you can be the one to leave.” Montrell watched the men’s faces tighten. “I’m sure Di Salvo will tell you the same.” He nodded over to Giovanni, who managed to look both remote and lethal.
“I will,” Giovanni said, brusque as usual as he shifted a step closer to Nera.
Antonio Di Salvo stepped up to her other side, his blue eyes colder than ever as he smiled at the Mafia dons. “The Di Salvos won’t allow disrespect to be given to anyone holding our name.”
Beatrice’s heels were a steady sound in the sudden silence as she moved to Montrell’s side. “I’m sure they meant no disrespect.” She reached out, straightening Barone’s tie, which didn’t need to be straightened. She had no trouble meeting each man’s eye. “I remember both of you being quite gracious to me in the past.” Her hand pulled back to curl around Montrell’s arm. “We should at least give them time to acclimate.”
