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“My personal guard is missing and our fathers’ discussed the next steps to keep me safe while they look into it,” she says whilelooking at the floor. Breathing deeply, I cannot tell if the way she is acting out of grief or subservience. This is not how I want her to submit to me. The time will come where she will be on her knees following my instructions to earn her release, but today she needs her fire. Closing the distance between us, I lift her chin with my fingers until our eyes make contact. The make up covers most of the evidence of her tears but her eyes have a hint of redness beneath the black that cannot be hidden.
“You will always be safe in my home from every other person. Very few people have access to my private residence. You do not answer to anyone else in this house but me,” I utter matter-of-factly. Removing my hand from her supple skin takes effort for me, but I know it’s for the best. My hand moves on its own to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
“Follow me, Butterfly.” I say as I turn toward the hallway. As much as every fiber of my being wants her under me after my kill today, she needs to earn her place in my bed. For now I will have her in the room across the hall from me where she can be monitored while I figure out if she is a queen or a pawn in her father’s game and where her allegiance lies. As I open the door to the room, I see her hiding her wince. She is fucking afraid I am going to keep her like a prisoner. She isn’t wrong or right on this. I was unprepared for her to join me today.
“Set down your bag and anything else in here and I will meet you in the kitchen. Can you find your way?” I question, and she responds with a curt nod at a loss for words. The look of unbridled shock on her face is enough to put a smile on mine; she did not expect the mafia prince to be civil. Taking a step out of her way I let her take in the room fully. It is a larger bedroom with a King bed in the center. The wall closest to the door is built-in bookshelves that Rome helped me fill. Next to the walk-in closet and en-suite bathroom there is an older desk. While I may not have expected guests in my home today, my father isunpredictable and I always keep the interior rooms locked aside from the spare bedroom where Rome sleeps when he doesn’t want to go home.
With the adrenaline from today’s kill, I hadn’t intended on making food and was just going to drink a protein shake, but if I do that I know my butterfly will go hungry instead of asking for anything. If I make food at least she will eat to be polite even if she isn’t hungry. The fridge is slim pickings since I don’t often eat at home but with her here I will need to have more food stocked, but I need to know what makes her smile and what food feeds her soul before I send my housekeeper shopping. I quietly roll up the sleeves of my black shirt so I don’t add any blood to our dinner. I can count the number of times I have cooked for someone aside from Claire. The quiet and solitude is my peace, and I had no intention of changing anything. Having the sound of someone else in my house typically sets me on edge but with her here safe I can breathe easy.
The pasta I dried yesterday should pair well with a clam cream sauce and garlic knots that I brought home from the restaurant. While I make quite a bit of my food from scratch, the best baker within one hundred miles supplies the restaurant’s bread. Setting the oven to three hundred degrees, I put the bread in to warm while I make the pasta. The water for the pasta goes on the stove, when I hear her steps approaching me.
Chapter Ten
LEO
“Good food, great views, and dangerous conversations lead my Butterfly to me.”
Adding salt to the water, I listen intently for each of the steps that bring her to me. Setting the pan on the stove, I turn the heat on. I remove the pancetta, onion, and garlic from their respective places in my kitchen to chop while I let my Butterfly come to me. She stops, facing the kitchen, unsure of what to do with herself. She will need to find her footing in our home. I like the sound of that. I did not expect to be able to call it that so soon, but plans change and sometimes even theAngel of Deathgets lucky.
“Would you like some wine? I have a wonderful sauvignon blanc that will pair well with dinner,” I inquire while not looking directly at her. Like any frightened creature, I must let her come to me on her terms. Or at least what she believes are her terms. Adding the pancetta first causes the pan to sizzle. The smell of dinner permeates the air around us, making this house feel more like a home, not for the space but who I am sharing it with. I know that the reality is no fairytale, and our story is far fromover, but I can be patient for the right thing. I’ve never had anything in my life worth working for; she is different. Patience is something that I struggle with when it comes to people but not when it comes to cooking or killing; both are an art. If you cannot wait for the masterpiece to be done then you don’t deserve the beauty of the final product.
“No, thank you,” she answers, timid like she is walking on eggshells. While I understand her discomfort, she needs to adjust to this life soon because she is mine. When the clams and seasoning join the pan the simmer is the only thing you can hear besides our breathing. I add in the heavy whipping cream and cheese to the pan to get a thick white sauce before straining the noodles.
“We can eat at the island or the table if you would like,” I inform her as I pull the bread out of the oven. While we eat I am going to need to go over some house rules with her, at least until I figure out what her intentions are in this marriage. The black plates are my favorite because the pasta looks more presentable with the contrasting background. The warmth building in my lower abdomen is pride; or what I think pride feels like. Knowing that it is food that I made for her that will nourish her, and help her keep her strength in the coming battle adds to that feeling. The only other people in my life are Rome and Claire and I've never felt the primal urge to take care of them like this before. She sits at the island so she can watch me finish making our meal. She is either enjoying the show, or she is making sure I am not poisoning her. While both are absolutely plausible, I am personally hoping for the former. I spend enough time working out, having my wife attracted to me would definitely match the intense chemistry I know we have. Preparing a plate with pasta, the sauce, and some garlic bread I set it in front of her before turning around to prepare my own.
“Thank you,” she whispers. With her first bite of dinner she stifles a moan that goes straight to my cock. Smiling while I discreetly adjust myself, I place the garlic bread on my dish and sit at the island, leaving a chair between us so she has room to comfortably eat. While I could crowd her space, I want her to come to me willingly or not at all. I may be theAngel of Deathbut there are some lines that even I will not cross. She deserves to be comfortable in her home. The moment I knew how her father treated her, all I have wanted with every atom of my being is to give her a safe space to be the person she wants to be. She doesn’t have to be the mafia princess in these walls and the only man she will ever answer to is me. If my father so much as breathes with negative intentions in her direction I will show him exactly what kind of merciless killer he raised.
“There are some house rules we should go over, as you can tell I was not necessarily prepared for you to come home yet. I understand that the circumstances that led to this were not ideal for you, but do not mistake my lack of preparation for displeasure. This is your home now too, and I will state some of the rules so we can discuss them for clarity and adjust them as needed. If you have any rules you would like to add, this is your time to speak up,” I inform her between bites. While I may not have had much in the fridge to choose from for this evening, our dinner came out incredible. She stops eating and nods. I know this conversation might be rough, but if we do not have clear expectations in the house things can get uncomfortable fast.
“First, we will maintain our separate rooms and private space unless invited in by the occupant. This means that I will not come into your room without knocking and being permitted entrance unless I believe there is a safety risk, and I ask that you do the same. These are the spaces for us to decompress and maintain our privacy,” I say while tearing into the bread and dipping it in the pasta sauce.
“Okay, I do a lot of writing in my journal and I ask that you do not read them under any circumstance. This is how I problem solve, and I typically hide them well for security but I am pleading that you give me that at least,” she responds to me trying to hide her flushed face. I suppress my smile, since I know it is not the right response, but the fact that she is engaging in the conversation tells me that she understands the importance of the conversation that she is a part of. This is truly the first step of the rest of our lives, and every crack lets me see just a bit more of who she really is.
“I need to add your fingerprints to the security so if you come and go you have access to the house without me. There are only a few people with complete access to the property. My father only has access to the gate and the front door. Technically he has access to the common bathroom, but that’s for the best. He cannot enter any of the locked rooms,” I utter, knowing that I am sharing a secret that her father doesn’t know. The tension between my father and I is not publicly known for a reason. Someday I will take over the family business, but only after I find my revenge. We don’t share our contentions with the outside world. Like professionals, we present a unified front when around others and only voice grievances in private.
“Does that mean you can access my bedroom even if the door is locked?” she asks, nervousness showing in her tone for the first time in this conversation.
“Yes, but I will only do so in the case of an emergency where your safety is in question. This may have been my house but now it is ours, and I want you to feel at home here too,” I answer with a little more than I originally intended. She nods in response when we both finish the last bites of our dinner and place our dirty dishes in the sink. I lead her to the hall closet, where I access the security system. She looks away while I type in my password without me having to ask. So, I guess she can be a goodgirl. Grabbing the scanner in one hand and her fingers in my other, I scan in her fingertips.
“The system does an auto-update every night, so you may not be entered quite yet. It should be up by tomorrow morning and you have the same permissions that I do,” I tell her as I release her hand. She shakes her head like she is clearing a thought away and I smile wondering what about this has my bride lost in her thoughts. Walking with her to her bedroom and letting her in the door, she steps inside before looking up at me. Her eyes are swirling with emotions almost as if she cannot pick one to feel.
“Am I going to be locked in this room?” her voice trembles for the first time and I feel a weight in my gut.
“Only for tonight, once the system updates you should be able to come and go as you please,” I wince, knowing that this isn’t the answer she wanted but I can’t do anything about it because of how we built the system. Using my finger I pull her chin up to look at me.
“If you need anything, and I mean anything, I am across the hall and will be here as fast as I can. I promise that this house is more secure than the airport. No one, and I mean no one, will ever hurt you here. Get some sleep, Butterfly,” I respond and shut the door before going to bed.
Chapter Eleven
LEO
“There are very few things I can count on in my life but my dick and my best friend always come through for me.”
Soft humming wakes me from my sleep. Someone is in my house. I wipe the sleep from my eyes, trying to understand what’s happening. I sit up straight and pull on sweats and a shirt before grabbing my gun from the side table. Then, suddenly everything from last night hits me. Coming home to find her and my father in the living room. He said that since we were to be married soon, we should get used to living together. The sun has barely risen and I did not get enough sleep.
Opening my bedroom door I smell bacon with undertones of flowers. It is unbridled and her. I use that scent to lead me to my bride-to-be, stalking her desperately to understand what her game is in all of this. Based on what I know from her corpse of a bodyguard, her father was awful to her and everyone else. The first thing I see is her pale beautiful legs fully on display. Her supple thighs are exposed, making my mouth water. Shit. She is the enemy. She is part of my revenge. I force my jaw closed and try to force my eyes upward when I see it across her shoulderblades. “De Luca.” She is wearing Rome’s fucking shirt. My whole world stops and everything goes quiet while I spiral. Has he fucked her? Where did she get this shirt? Why would she wear this in my house? She is mine.
“Ah, Leo, you scared me,” she breathlessly utters. I cannot see through the rage that is boiling through me. I see the moment my rage resonates in her eyes as she shrinks against the stove, turning off the heat. Her face is flushed like she is surprised at my presence in my own home. I take a step toward her and she steps around me to leave the kitchen. Timid little butterfly. As she tries to escape my hand wraps around the hem of that fucking shirt.
