Page 73 of The Forbidden Husband

“Oh my God, I’m so close,” she cried.

I grabbed the hair at the base of her skull and tugged her head back until she was forced to meet my eyes. “Tell me you’ll never pull shit like that again.”

“To keep you safe—"

I rubbed into her so hard that she cried out, screaming. But this time, I let her come. I let her ride every ounce of that orgasm until she began bucking my hand away, but I held firm, drawing every ounce of that pleasure out of her.

And then I thrust into her and continued.

“It’s too much,” she moaned, bucking and shouting my name.

“Be a fucking good girl and tell me what I want to hear,” I demanded.

“Jesus, Enzo.”

I slammed into her, and her eyes rolled, but I didn’t release her. I continued my assault, grinding my thumb into her and rubbing my cock just so…

“I swear,” she screamed.

“You swear what?” I asked, my voice turning softer.

“I swear I won’t do anything like that again. I swear.”

I slowed, allowing my body to soothe hers back into pleasure. Her moans continued, though less severe. “Good, girl,” I growled into her ear. I nipped the lobe, and she wrapped her arms around my back, digging her fingers into it.

The sharp pressure had heat rolling through me. Consuming me. Her soft moans in my ear brought me to my breaking point, and I held myself back for a few more seconds until her sounds grew uncontrollable. Until she spasmed, and I felt her come right alongside me.

Together.

As it would be from now on.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Aria Bianchi

I stood in a short line of a handful of young men. Most looked rough around the edges, but I could expect nothing less from that in this situation. The young man beside me couldn’t have been older than twenty, and he took puffs of a cigarette as Giovanni held a needle in front of the first man in the line.

He bled on a piece of thick paper, and the blood dripped down the saint’s cheek. Then the next man in line. We were all here to swear our loyalty to the Rissi family. It was a tradition that went back generations: bleed on the picture of a saint to swear our undying fidelity to the Rissi family crime syndicate. With our blood, we would be bound to the family until death.

The whole time, Giovanni spoke words about the mafia and the history behind the organization. The previous families who had controlled it, the dismantling of the Commission, leaving the remaining families to govern themselves. He talked about the territory lines between the Rissi crime family and the Bianchi family.

He told the whole story of the mafia—the unaltered one. The one full of bloodshed and betrayal.

I grew up hearing stories of my grandfather dismantling the great Italian mafia Commission brick-by-brick, so hearing the Rissi’s version of the same story felt nostalgic. It reminded me of the fantastical life I thought this would be before I stepped foot into the gore and truth behind the words.

But this was different.

Everyone in this line had proven themselves to Giovanni and Enzo—everyone except for me. But my job wasn’t going to be the same as theirs. My job was going to set this crime family apart from all the ones before us.

He stopped in front of me and gave a soft look that I didn’t deserve. Giovanni had always believed in me, and even after I had come and offered a genuine apology, he had taken me back under his wing without an ounce of hesitation. I thought about the hug he had offered and the words he had whispered to me out of Enzo’s ear shot.

“I knew you were someone we could trust. Vito told me of your task before you came here, and we gave you a home anyway.”

He had known the truth, and he had still allowed me to pave my own path.

He had more faith in me than I had in myself.

And because of my decision, he offered me something that I still didn’t think I deserved. He offered the opportunity to be the first made woman in Rissi family history.

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