Page 24 of The Mafia’s Fiancee

“Where are we going?” she asked.

I loved hearing her say we. It would always be us. Me and her. Together for good.

“My friend’s relative has something like a safehouse.”

“Ah. Is it currently occupied?”

I shook my head, wincing at the tension in my upper back. From the falls, the fighting, or something else, I was exhausted. “No. It hasn’t been used in a while, but I think they keep it as something to know is there. Just in case.”

“Are they affiliated with any families?”

“No. Randy’s relatives might have gotten a little too close to the wrong side of the law with dealing drugs, but they don’t do that anymore. None of them.”

“In other words, somewhere Antonio’s men or my father’s men won’t know to look for us.”

“Exactly.” I couldn’t take her back to her condo at the Tropican. And I wouldn’t risk bringing her to my mother’s. I had to call back Jimmy, but I didn’t have my phone with me. Still in the athletic gear that I wore to that fight, I had nothing in my pockets.

She didn’t seem to either. Just the clothes she wore.

I glanced over.

And my ring. She still had it, and I sighed as I took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “What the fuck is with this medieval shit?” I gestured to the metal band on her forearm.

“My dad’s. All his men use them for when they bring in rats or traitors or enemies. To torture them or outright kill them.”

“Isn’t it a little old-fashioned?” I asked, curious because it seemed like an unreliable means of securing people.

“No more or less than the concept of arranged marriages are,” she retorted. “I’m just glad Krista found a keyring and was able to get the one off my ankle.” She proceeded to fill me in on what happened. How she was captured, brought home, and visited by Antonio.

My blood burned hotter with the mentions of that asshole. Between Damon Giordino and Antonio Marchese, I had my shit list filled at the moment. Both of them would suffer, but not until I could make sure Emma was really all right.

She didn’t seem dainty or too traumatized with all the violence, but I knew how she could hide and try to lie. For all I knew, she could be suffering inside and fighting to keep a brave front up.

Once we reached Randy’s safehouse, I scoped our surroundings and made sure it was all right to head inside.

Even though the building was rundown, the exterior was a façade. The neglect and wear-and-tear look was intended to be a decoy, but inside, behind a fancy lock pad and security system, the place was furnished and decent. It wasn’t anything like that fancy mansion I’d just rescued Emma from, but it wasn’t a ratty shithole either.

“Let me see that thing.” I led her to the kitchen, planning to get that damn cuff off her arm. All the skin was rubbed raw. Parts were bleeding, and it all looked so angry.

I positioned her near a counter, and as I tried to pick at the lock with a knife and fork, she cleared her throat.

“I was desperate to get free,” she explained, likely realizing how I’d noticed her raw flesh.

“I was desperate to get you free too,” I replied, meaning every word. I lifted my gaze to hers, mesmerized by the light blue-green of her startlingly bright eyes.

Even though I’d caught my breath, I still felt like I was running high on adrenaline. This rush of fighting and running and getting away gave me addictive charge. Looking into her eyes and seeing the same devotion and contentedness in her expression, I felt eager to act on this feeling of hope.

We’d been so desperate to get back to each other, and now that we were, I was impatient to sink into her and really feel all of her, to feel like we’d come home to each other in the most intimate way possible.

I worked on breaking off this cuff, trying to ignore the pangs in my heart at how close I’d come to losing her. More than once, I worried that I’d lost my fiancée on the same damn day that she became it. Just seeing her and sharing the same space with her went a long way to appeasing how high-strung I’d been, fighting my way to her and searching for her.

The moment the metal halves split apart, forced open from the jimmying with the knife and fork, she lunged into my arms. She’d been affected by that same lull of desire and need. Her lips crushed against mine, causing the slight split to sting. My face ached with the pressure of kissing her, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t. With her in my arms, nothing could be wrong. Now that I had her, I wasn’t backing down or letting her go.

We kissed as I carried her out of the kitchen. I wasn’t familiar with this place, so I stumbled into a few pieces of furniture along the way, but I had a hunch a bathroom would be near the back.

Hard and fast, we made out like we’d never be able to break apart. Her enthusiasm and neediness had me hard in seconds, and I hoped she’d be ready to take me rough this time.

She was still so new to sex, so recently losing her virginity, but I had faith she’d learn what she liked with me. Tonight, right here, she’d be able to determine if she liked hard, fast shower sex.