Page 10 of Autumn Ritual

Sara clutched my dress shirt tightly. She dragged me down to her, pressing her gorgeous tits against me. I groaned, cupping her face in both my hands. With a breathy pant, Sara bit my bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to kiss me,” she whispered.

That statement was completely at odds with her earlier declarations. I had spoken roughly, disguising my voice, but the way that she peered up at me, made me question if she’d figured it out. I would have to work on a gruff tone that she wouldn’t recognize.

I moved to take another taste, the urge to brand myself on her stronger than any force on earth. Sara’s eyelids fluttered closed as she rose to meet me.

Shouts tore through the night behind us.

The slap of flesh pounding against flesh accented other raised voices.

With a snarl, I straightened and tugged my mask back into place. Whoever dared interrupt the peace of this moment would suffer.

I looked back at Sara, debating what to say—how to say it—so that she wouldn’t recognize me.

The angel squeezed my fingertips. “They’re Made Men, causing a scene with some tourists.”

My girl was quick to figure out just what was happening.

“Go on,” Sara urged. “See what that’s about.”

Once more, I brushed the tip of my fingers over her lips before I turned and forced myself to move. I stalked toward the fight just as a few of my brothers-in-arms descended upon the fray. The brawlers didn’t heed our bark of warning.

I had to physically insert myself into the fight.

I tugged Emanuele back, but he threw a wild punch. It clipped my ear. If I hadn’t moved, it would have crushed the mask into my flesh.

“Watch it!” I hissed.

The enraged soldier shouted in my face. “That stronzo copped a feel!”

I lifted my mask and leveled him with a stare. His eyes widened, and he began to stammer.

I understood his predicament. The charm of small-town life attracted all manner of city scum. It didn’t matter that the tourist in question was in a bespoke suit with a fifty thousand dollar watch glittering on his wrist. He thought he could do whatever he wanted.

This was not the town for that.

“You know the rules,” I bit out, shaking Emanuele.

It took another ten minutes to calm them down and sort things out. By the time the “police” arrived, my blood boiled with frustration at the interruption. But the cops weren’t just on our side. They were us. Picked men who the don trusted to keep law and order in the Cove.

Pulling my mask down, I reentered the ball, gaze sweeping the tables. Sara would probably have gone to the buffet to grab treats. She was sweet like that. But there was no angelic flower tucked against a side table. I didn’t see my angel anywhere.

Stalking to the place where her parents were drinking mulled wine, I leaned down and planted my knuckles on the crimson tablecloth. “Caputo, where’s your daughter?”

“Oh! Sara said she had a headache and turned in,” Sancia responded brightly. “We gave her our car, since she reasoned that taking a rideshare would mean we could indulge a bit more.” Signora Caputo lifted her glass and giggled like a girl.

Beside her, Saverio tugged at his collar. Below his Venetian mask, his lips puckered in disapproval.

“Were you her date?” Sancia gave me a curious look. “You don’t seem her type.”

I gave her a tight look before turning back to her husband. “Go home. Take care of your daughter.”

Saverio spoke through gritted teeth, “Si, Signore.”

Sancia’s mouth popped open in a small O. “Are you Lucian?”

I wasn’t deigning to respond. Caputo knew our deal. I’d told him in no uncertain terms that he was to keep the deal we made a secret. I wanted to bring Sara to the ball, and he promised to make it happen.