The moment I walked out of the training grounds, I spent nearly the rest of the day at the gun range, testing out different firearms, running drills on my own. Anything to keep my hands busy. Anything to drown out the incessant thoughts clawing at my mind. I had to do something. Restlessness hummed beneath my skin, fed by everything I couldn't control.
Not knowing where Alex had kept Camilla. Not knowing how she was faring, whether she could be swayed to our side. Though that would be unlikely. For one, she didn't really have a motive. Not when her father had been nothing but loyal to my grandfather.
And then there was New York.
I've managed to use the public scrutiny as an excuse, for now, but I didn't know how long I could keep stalling. New York had to be secured, one way or another, and I intend to do it without marrying Dante. It was one of our largest territories in the United States, after all.
The irony wasn't lost on me. My father had once ruled New York as Capo before handing it over to one of his most trusted friend, Dario's father. Before my grandfather dragged him back, forced him to reclaim his position. The price had been my mother. He had been made to take an Italian wife instead, someone more useful to the family.
We were supposed to fly back to New York, the next day. All three of us.
Until the explosion happened.
"I didn't think you'd be back so soon," Alex said, looking up from his laptop the moment he heard me enter. His glasses sat low on his nose, catching the glow of the fire as he glanced over at me.
He was seated by the sofa facing the fireplace, positioned neatly between the balcony doors. The room was dim, washed in amber light. The sunset bleeding into night.
"You're early yourself," I replied, locking the door behind me with a soft click. Just in case. One never knew who might wander in.
He looked unfairly good. Dark polo hugging his shoulders, trousers sitting low on his hips, sneakers kicked off nearby. His hair was rumpled, as though he had come in through the balcony rather than the door, careless in a way that always made my chest tighten.
I crossed the room, the familiar pull drawing me in. Without a word, he set the laptop aside and opened his arms.
I only meant to brush past him. Maybe press a quick, chaste kiss to his head before escaping to the bathroom because I knew I smelled like sweat and gunpowder. But his hand found my waist instead, firm and certain, and tugged.
I barely had time to gasp before I toppled forward, my ass landing on his lap with a startled yelp. His arm came around me instantly, steadying me as if that had been his plan all along.
"I've missed you," he murmured, brushing a soft kiss over my lips.
My hands rose to his jaw, thumb grazing the rough shadow of stubble already reclaiming his skin despite the fact that he shaved every night. It had barely been a day. I should've found it irritating. Instead, I loved the rough edges of it against my lips, or my skin.
"I couldn't say the same for you," I said lightly.
His brows knit together. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You tell me," I replied. "I'm sure Sergio, or one of your men, has already told you what happened this morning."
"A little sexist of you to assume that all my spies are men," he teased, adjusting his grip on my until I was fully caged in by his body, as if he was anticipating my escape.
I lifted a brow, unimpressed.
"But of course I heard about it," he went on, his voice dropping, steadier now. "I just wasn't planning on starting our conversation there. Contrary to what you seem to think, I'm not always looking for a fight."
His mouth curved faintly.
"Especially not with my wife."
I looped my arms around his neck, pressing closer, my body still warm and slick with sweat, adrenaline humming beneath my skin. The last light of sunset spilling over us, gliding the room in gold, sharpening his attention. Those green eyes darkening, his breath shifting as his focus narrowed to my lips, then to my chest, then back to my lips.
"Then tell me," I said quietly, now that he was where I wanted him to be. "Where's Camilla?"
My gaze held his, unyielding now.
"Let me see her," I said again. "At least."
He studied me for a beat, lips curving despite the crease between his brows. "I knew there'd be a price," he murmured, gaze dropping briefly to where my body pressed to his. "You don't tease like this without expecting something in return."
"Isn't that how it always works?" I countered.
He tugged gently at my ponytail, just enough to make me hiss, then slipped the band free, letting my hair spill down. His fingers threaded through it slowly, reverently, before his eyes lifted back to mine. Dark, intent, unmistakably pleased.
"Not with me," he said softly. "I'd let you use me for free, Princess. Only you."
I rolled my eyes, even as a shiver betrayed me. "Well?"
His thumb brushed my jaw, deceptively tender. "You haven't apologized," he said calmly. "Not for what you did to one of my best spies. And yet here you are, already making demands."
"He played her," I said flatly. "I'd say he deserved it."
Alex studied me for a moment, his thumb still resting along my jaw, deceptively gently. "He did exactly what he was ordered to do," he replied. "You hurt one of my best spies."
"If he apologizes to my friend," I said, leaning in to press a brief, deliberate kiss to his lips, "then I'll consider it."
A slow exhale left him. He shook his head, amusement creeping in despite himself. "You're impossible, wife."
"Yet here you are," I murmured.
"Fine," he said at last. "I'll take you to see her." His gaze dipped, dark and knowing. "But only if you'll let me fuck you in the shower."
I held his stare for a heartbeat, then pushed myself off his lap, smoothing my hands down my sides as I stood. My pulse was still racing. Not just from desire, but from everything.
"Funny," I said, smirking as I extended a hand toward him. "I was just about to ask you for the exact same thing."
His grin was slow and dangerous, taking my hand without hesitation.
Only this time, I wouldn't be the one apologizing.