Page 75 of Desire and Revenge

“You’d better,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me. “I’m not going to say ‘I do’ to a man in distressed jeans.”

I make a face. “I donotwear distressed jeans.”

Just then the sound of sirens fills the air and, up ahead, I can see police lights flashing.

“That’s our cue,” I tell her, turning toward the water.

“Wait—are we supposed to swim across the ocean?” She stares at me in disbelief. “I love you, Nero, but honestly? I’d rather get arrested.”

I throw my head back in laughter, her horrified expression priceless. “Don’t worry, Princess. There’s a boat.”

She plants a hand on her hip and glares at me. “And?”

I pull her in for one last kiss, savoring her taste. “And I love you too.”

EPILOGUE

Sofia

Iwake up slowly, the soft daylight filtering through the glass walls that line the front of the house. Stretching lazily, I reach for Nero, only to find his side of the bed empty.

In his place, there’s a note and a single rose.

Smiling, I pick up the flower and tuck it behind my ear before opening the note.

In the kitchen.

I let my head fall back onto the pillow with a soft laugh. When it comes to romance, well, Nero is... a work in progress. He has these moments where he can be unintentionally sweet, but he’s also abrupt and, sometimes, completely oblivious.

“Hello, Princess.” His deep voice draws my attention. He’s leaning against the doorframe, holding a bowl in his hand, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

My eyes drink him in, and as always, a sense of rightness fills me. It always does when I look at him. He’s mine—every inch of him. This perfect, rugged, infuriating, beautiful man. All mine.

I’m the luckiest woman in the world.

I stretch out on the bed, intentionally arching my back and allowing the bed covers to slip down my breasts.

“Hey, baby,” I say with a slow smile, enjoying the way his gaze darkens.

Amusement flickers in his eyes, but the second they settle on the exposed mounds of my breasts, any trace of humor is gone, replaced with raw hunger.

“Did no one ever tell you not to tease a hungry animal with its food, Mrs. Castello?” he growls, voice low and heated.

The name never ceases to warm my heart and, reflexively, my focus lands on the gold band around my husband’s finger. I don’t think he’s taken it off a single day since I saidI doto him and slid it into the digit. I can’t believe it’s been almost five months since then.

After that day at the docks, when the shootout ended, things had gotten complicated. The police and press had circled like vultures. I had to stay indoors for a while when their relentless hounding became too much.

One particularly aggressive journalist had shoved a microphone in my face and wouldn’t stop screaming questions, causing me to stumble and fall. And like an avenging angel, Nero had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and in seconds, the man was an unrecognizable mess on the ground.

Our lawyers—and Carmine—had managed to smooth things over, but it had taken me to talk Nero out of hunting the man down at the hospital to finish what he started.

“Marry me, and I won’t kill him,” he had said, dead serious.

I remember staring at him in disbelief. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I don’t joke about things like this, Princess,” he’d replied, not a trace of humor in his tone.

“Seriously,” I’d thrown up my hands in the air, frustrated, “are you trying to coerce me into marrying you? You know what? Go ahead and kill him. Do whatever you want. When you land in federal prison, I’ll be free to go off with some young, hot, and?—”

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