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“I would love to, my new clothes got delivered today. What should I wear to dinner?” she asks coyly. My Butterfly is attempting to hide a smile from me that shines so bright in her eyes it could blind you. I have never had the chance to see her this happy before in our interactions or in photos.
“You are with me, you can wear whatever makes you happy and if anyone so much as attempts to make you uncomfortable they can find out why I am known as theAngel of Death.” I state, knowing that this could not be more true. No one would dare to make her uncomfortable in front of me. Not if they value their lives, at least. This is our first date night, one of many I hope.
“See you in the living room in an hour, Leo,” she says before going back to her book. I am going to need to ask what she reads so I can stock the shelves in that room for her the way she deserves. Every single person deserves an outlet, and if books are the way my Butterfly finds reprieve then I will fill her library time and time again. When she is ready to part with a book and replace it, I will donate it to our library system to bring others joy. As part of our family legacy we build up our community and ensure that others are able to enrich themselves in a good book.
This is why the detectives are so easy to put on our payroll. We might be the bad guys, but we are better than the scum thatwe keep at bay. Stepping into my en-suite bathroom, I peel off layer by layer before I step into the shower with images of my Butterfly on my island. Each image goes directly to my cock. The growing erection demands my attention. Remembering the way she tastes on my tongue has me wrapping my fingers around my shaft, stroking myself to the way she screamed my name. Pre-cum covers my hand with every stroke and I need more. More of her pussy and more of her mouth. Putting her smart mouth to good use by filling it up with my dick, pushing myself down her throat before pulling out to allow my bride to breathe again. I think of choking her with my cock and feeling the way her throat constricts on my head until I cannot help but cum. I’m unable to deny the primal urge to bury my cock in her that vibrates in my very bones. Cum spurts from me against the shower wall as I catch my breath.
Rewashing my body to avoid any sticky residue, I hurry out the shower to avoid being late for our dinner. I quickly dress in my signature black suit and button down shirt before I leave my room. Down the hall, I am stopped in my tracks before I even make it to the living room because of her. The black shimmery cocktail dress she is wearing hugs each of the curves of her body showing me her delicate skin. She is wearing wedge heels that make her legs look miles long. My mouth waters at the idea of bending her over and spreading those legs apart instead of going to dinner.
The sounds of my footsteps alert her to my presence and when she turns to face me, I feel my heart physically skip a beat. Her face, accentuated with minimal makeup, lights up as we make eye contact. With the heels she is almost as tall as I am and like a gentleman, I offer her my arm. Walking into the garage toward my black sports car we get comfortable. I hand her the auxiliary cord to pick the music while we are on our way to my family's restaurant. She plays punk music and hums along to thesong in peace as we traverse the streets. My shoulders relax as I navigate traffic thinking about our future.
When we enter the restaurant, we bypass the hostess for the private room I have reserved for us. I think she trusts me enough to eat alone with me now that we live together and she is more likely to answer my questions cavalierly if she feels like we have privacy. The bottle of red wine I preselected is on our table with glasses, sealed. Depositing her in her chair we both have our backs to the wall, a habit neither of us are likely to dispose of in time. Our server comes in and places a different family spread set before us than the last time we were here. Dishing up our plates, I nod and dismiss the server so he can go make the money he deserves instead of waiting on us. The door shuts as we dig into the food on our plates before I decide to get to know the woman that I will spend the rest of my life with.
“What is a place that you have always wanted to go?” I ask, knowing that she may not answer me truthfully but that if she does, it will show me a side of her that I cannot know unless she allows it. Every piece to the puzzle that I get about my bride gives me a way to show her how much I can value her as my wife. It isn’t always the grand gestures that women want, sometimes it is as simple as taking something off their plate without being asked, and for others it is paying attention to their likes and dislikes. It’s using the information that you gather about the small things and giving them those small boosts regularly that make the biggest difference in a relationship.
“Honestly, New Orleans for Halloween would be a dream. The cultural aspect and the mystical blend between fantasy and reality is unmatched. I would just be a regular girl who reads vampire books based around the city. Somewhere that my lineage is not as well known,” she answers with red tinging her cheeks. I make a mental note to buy her as many vampire and fiction books based in New Orleans as soon as I could. As soonas I can I will take her on her dream vacation. One where she is not the mafia princess and I am not theAngel of Death. Where she can just be the wife of a man obsessed with her. All of the wonders of the world could be in my view and she would still be the star of my sight.
We continue to eat and chat about what she would do in New Orleans while we finish dinner, and for that hour I forget myself in our conversation. There is no pretense of what and who I am, just a man and a woman making plans for their future. In all reality, our situation will probably contain more violence, but there are no boundaries I won’t push to make her dreams a reality. When we are ready to leave I offer her my arm so we can walk out together. Putting her in the car, I hop into the driver’s seat. We begin the drive home when we pull up to a red light. I look into the car next to us and see the driver pull his mask down with just enough time to push my Butterfly into the seat below the bullet proof exterior.
Chapter Thirteen
LEO
“When the smart call also feels like running, you do it for her, not for you.”
Gunshots ring out around us and I hold my breath, grabbing the gun from the small of my back. As the bullets ricochet off the bulletproof exterior around us I can feel her fear encompassing me. A second shooter starts up and I can see the fear in my Butterfly and it makes my heart clench. The glass in the car is currently holding up against the bullets but I cannot guarantee how much longer that will last. I cannot fire back out of the car without finishing off the glass in the passenger window that is protecting her.
The intersection we are at is dead but the train across the road in a block would hold us up. We need the ability to change plans in case the glass gives out. The sound of the back drivers side taking fire from another direction makes it hard to pinpoint the greater of the dangers. Is the person next to us the one running this show or is it the shooter behind us calling the shots? Taking out the clear leader is how I would typically handle a two-on-one gun fight, but she is here and I cannot put her in anyadditional danger. My car is bulletproof, to an extent, and if I can keep her below the glass she should be safe enough to get out of this.
If it was just me, I would be taking a much more offensive tactical way of thinking but I have no idea how she handles situations like this. The fact that she has followed my unwavering direction since she understood the danger makes me feel more secure. The idea of fighting to keep her safe and having to force her farther into the seat against her will is not a situation I want to be in. There is no way for me to fire back without the windows giving way and putting her in more danger. I cannot risk her, even if it means running away from the fight instead of running into the battle without a second thought. My decision is made for me when the car behind us starts to approach my side. There is no way I am sticking around here with her and no back up.
Grasping her neck to keep her below the metal of the car and press the gas to accelerate through the intersection in the direction of our house. Signs are flying by and I need both hands to maneuver if we get into traffic. She replaces my hand with hers to keep her in the safe position. Reaching under the seat she locates my spare gun. She checks the barrel and the clip and readies herself for a potentially bloody fight. Punching the gas, I floor through the newly red light before the traffic has a chance to start moving. This puts some distance between us and our attackers.
“Are you hurt?” I ask in a panic, hoping that the car provided her the protection that my title did not today. Her hands are steady on the gun, showing me she has been through danger before. While my every day is filled with adrenaline, gunfights, murder, and overall violence, hers is not. Today having her in the literal crosshairs is enough for me to set fire to the world and build her a throne with the ashes. We need to see how well sheknows how to use the gun. She did the proper checks when she picked it up but I want her to be as feared as I am.
“I…I am okay. I think. Are you okay?” she asks me, the fear evident in her voice even if it doesn’t carry to her physical reactions. That undiluted fear fills me with enough rage to consider turning around and taking on our attacker in the middle of the street while she drives the rest of the way home. Taking the last turn, I roll up to the gates that open and close quickly behind us. We park in the garage, initiating the panic button from my phone to increase the security protocols and alert the inner circle. We are home. We are safe. Now, it’s time to call my father. Using the speed dial options in my phone, I quickly ring my father. He answers on the third ring, and since I initiated the call, I speak first.
“Father. Yes, it’s an emergency. I am sorry for interrupting,” I say to him wanting to get this conversation over with.
“We were targets of a drive-by shooting today. I could not take them out by myself without putting Fiorella’s life at risk,” I continue to fill him in. Using the 360 degrees of cameras built into my car, I forward him the footage on our secure network. I can hear Enzo calling who I can assume is one of our police force contacts to silence any complaints about the gunfire tonight. We want to investigate this without the involvement of the cops. My father’s only response is to “Send me everything,” before the line goes dead. She secures the safety on the gun and sets it on the dashboard. I will need to get her some holsters if she wants to carry one of her own.
Helping her out of the car, I can see the shaking in her hands and just how much this affected her. At this moment I know what I need tonight, and it is not to go to bed alone. Putting my phone in my pocket, I put one arm around her shoulder and tuck the other under her knees lifting her up. I look into her eyes for reassurance that she doesn’t hate me. She could fight me on this,but I would just sit at her door and listen to her breathing. Either way I will know that she is still alive after being so close to losing her. She has every right to fight me on this but I think it is what we both need tonight.
Holding her close to my chest, she loops her arms around my neck. Walking through the house with long strides, I walk back to my room and open the door. The surprise on her face says all that I need to know. She did not expect to be invited here, much less brought in bridal style. Gently, I set her on the bed on what will be her side of the blankets. With slow and measured steps, I remove her shoes and her dress. That’s when I see the scars on her back for the first time. It takes everything in me to ignore them tonight. She has been through enough today. She looks up at me with confusion and shame swirling in her eyes. Leaving her sitting there in her matching black underwear, I turn around and open my dresser drawer. Shuffling through my clothes, I grab a black t-shirt and set it next to her. Removing her bra, I grasp the t-shirt and pull it over her head. On my knees in front of where she is on the bed I ask her for the only thing I want at this moment.
“Will you stay with me tonight, so I can know you are safe after our drive home?” I ask, swallowing my fear of her rejection. There is a primal need inside me to feel that she is safe, feel her lungs fill and deflate with every breath as a reminder that I didn’t lose her before I even have her. She doesn’t verbally respond but scoots back onto the bed and climbs under the covers. Stripping down to my boxers, I place all of our dirty clothes in the hamper and stop by the mini fridge. Grabbing bottles of water, I walk to my side of the bed. Handing her one of the bottles and waiting for her to drink some of it, I turn on the TV to whatever she was last watching. Using my phone, I turn off the light and plug the device in so I don’t miss a call. Taking a few drinks of my water, I climb into the bed next to her, wrapmy arm around her shoulder and pull her close. That is when the tears begin to fall from her cheeks onto my chest. Holding her tightly, I stroke her hair and hold her until she finally falls asleep.
The memories of what happened today race through my mind and I cannot stop seeing her fear. Fear that I would hand her back to her father like she is damaged goods. Fear of her scars and what created them. It fills me with rage that my Butterfly has been so unprotected for so long. I fall asleep holding her close, feeling her heartbeat remind me that she is still alive.
Chapter Fourteen
LEO
“My lack of emotional expression does not extend to my dick. He has a mind of his own. He needs to own her as much as I do.”
Dreams of her final breath wakes me before sunrise. She is still here and her breathing tells me that she is peacefully sleeping. Without disturbing her I gather my gym bag and head to the living room to call Rome. I need an update and to help find whoever dared to make my Butterfly fear for her life. Wearing only a pair of basketball shorts I stand in front of the punching bag stretching while I dial my best friend.
‘“Yes, Jules,” He answers in a joking tone before I can even tell him that I am not in the mood for our usual banter. I do not lose my cool over some danger. Typically, I am calm in the storm. I am an even keel person who only jokes with my best friend.
