Page 85 of Mercy in Betrayal

And here he is…ready and willing to give it all to me.

“You would do all of this for me? You would be a…fisherman?” A little sob of laughter escapes at the absurdity of it.

Resting his fists on the bed and leaning forward, Enzo drops his head. “All I want is whatever makes you happy. If that’s me being a fisherman, then I’ll be a fisherman. I’d shovel shit eighteen hours a day, every day, for the rest of my life if it made you happy.”

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and stand up straighter. “With all due respect, I didn’t marry a fisherman.”

“But I could become one.”

I narrow my eyes. “The smell of fish makes me want to puke, so the hell you will. I married Enzo Scarpetta, Don of the Scarpetta famiglia of New York City.” I lift my chin. “So, I guess that makes me a mob wife.”

His eyes gleam. “Does it now?”

“It does. And furthermore…fuck Azrael. I don’t want us to run from all of this. We need to stay…help the other families. We have to fight.”

Enzo swipes a hand across his mouth, his eyes filled with heat. “That pretty mouth saying ‘fuck’…”

I lift a hand and toy with the demure ribbon at my throat, the one tied in a bow. If I pull it loose, the keyhole opening of my blouse will open to a very un-demure view of my cleavage. “Yes?”

I tug the ribbon loose.

Enzo pushes the suitcase and his pile of clothes from the bed with a swipe of his arm. “It’s not at all ladylike.”

I climb onto the bed from the other side, hitching my skirt up and over my hips as I do. “Maybe I don’t want you to treat me like a lady right now.”

With a growl of command, Enzo swiftly divests himself of his clothes. “Strip.” He watches as I remove each article of clothing much slower than he did, one hand lazily pumping his cock as I do.

Then he’s on me, all lips and teeth and hands and man. It’s different this time; more like the first time at The Vessel. We’re just Enzo and Rowan, man and wife, and I can feel his utter worship of my body with every kiss of his lips, stroke of his fingers, and touch of his eyes.

He doesn’t just look at me. He sees me. His eyes soak me in, caressing every dip and divot, finding and making beautiful every flaw and imperfection.

I draw back just long enough to plant my hands on his cheeks and force him to meet my eyes. “We’re not going anywhere.”

He shakes his head. “We’re staying.”

“I love you, you know.”

The blunt head of his cock nudges against me, requesting entry, and I tilt my hips to accommodate him. He surges forward, moving easily through my slick until he’s seated fully against me. “I love you more, little bird.”

***

We’re cuddling afterward, Enzo’s arm wrapped around me as I lay curled against his side when a knock sounds on the door.

I groan. We never simply lie about in each other’s arms. Is it selfish of me to want to do it this one time? “Don’t answer it.”

Enzo shifts and kisses me. “I have to. And if we’re staying, I need to call a few people.” He rises and pulls on his pants before walking to the door and opening it a crack.

“What is it, Marco?”

Marco Vitale. He took Arturo’s place when he was killed two nights ago.

Enzo closes the door and continues dressing. “There’s someone downstairs who needs to speak with me.” Moving to the door, he turns back and studies me for a moment, his expression for once open and unguarded. What I see there makes me catch my breath. “I love you, Rowan.”

I don’t want to stay in bed after he’s gone. Getting up, I get dressed and decide to find food. I’ll make us something light for dinner. Something we can maybe sit in front of a fireplace with, with a glass of wine. A charcuterie board. A loaf of bread.

I’ll find Sarah. She can help.

Descending the stairs to the foyer, I pause mid-step. A woman stands outside of Enzo’s study, jiggling a beautiful dark-haired baby on her hip as she sort of lamely looks at the paintings on the wall. There’s something familiar about her. The dark hair. The tilt of her head.

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