Page 81 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

His entire body trembles as he takes the next card. I don’t need to look at it to know it’s my question. I set it up this way to get what I want from him—what he needs from me.

Two of diamonds.

I keep my eyes fixed on his, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. “Do you love me, Luca?”

His grip on me tightens, his hands moving to my hips as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. His breath is ragged, and his voice cracks when he speaks. “I never stopped loving you, Lenny. Not for a second.”

A tear slips down my cheek, and we’re both breathing heavily now. “It’s your card next,” I whisper, my lips brushing against his. He shudders at my gentle touch.

I bring him with me to grab his next card. He runs his nose up the column of my neck as I lean back. He takes me in like it’s the first breath he’s taken since the night we parted.

With a victorious smirk, I show him the card, knowing exactly what it is.Ace of spades.A black face card. I get to askhim to touch me any way I want, and he has to do it. It’s the rules of the game.

His sapphire eyes flick to the card, then back at me. “You stacked the deck.” His arms snake around me, pulling our bodies flush, our mouths only a heartbeat away.

“You taught me well.” I cup his jaw, leaning even closer. My quiet words caress his lips as I claim my reward. “Kiss me.”

“Len…”

“You can’t break the rules.” I move my hips against him, feeling how hard he is. “Kiss me, Luca.”

He cups my face, his thumb tenderly grazing my bottom lip. His eyes flick to my mouth for a moment, then back to my pleading gaze. He tilts his head, his lips moving slowly across mine—not quite kissing me yet, but savoring every second, every inch of contact.

Finally, he closes his eyes, and his lips meet mine.

It’s slow at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid that if he moves too fast, this moment will disappear into thin air. But it doesn’t feel like hesitation—it feels like the first time all over again. His hand moves to my back, the weight of it grounding me, as his other arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel his body, tense and warm, and the steady beat of his heart under his shirt. It makes my pulse quicken in response.

I melt into him, letting my hands slide to his neck, holding him closer as though I want to absorb every ounce of him. His kiss deepens just slightly, his tongue tracing the line of my lips with a quiet insistence that makes everything inside me coil and burn. With every soft press of his lips, I feel the layers of distance, of years apart, begin to peel away.

It’s a kind of kiss that makes everything else fade into the background—the world dissolving into nothing but the feel of him: his warmth, his touch, the way his lips move with mine.

There’s something desperate in the way he touches me, but it’s not frantic—it’s deliberate, as if he’s making up for lost time, trying to show me how much he cares, how much he regrets, how much he’s never stopped loving me. Each kiss is a question, a plea for forgiveness, and as I respond, I feel a sense of release in both of us. We don’t need words right now; his touch speaks louder than anything else could.

For the first time in years, I feel the weight of him—really feel it. Not the anger, not the distance, but the quiet intensity he’s always had. The boy who used to kiss me like he had all the time in the world, like I was the only thing that mattered.

And I know, deep down, this is the Luca I’ve missed. The one who used to make me feel like I was the most important thing in the room.

I lean into him, my body responding to the way he holds me, the way he kisses me like he’s trying to communicate everything he’s been holding back. His fingers trail down my spine, light and deliberate, sending a shiver through me. It’s a subtle touch, but I can feel the history between us in it—the comfort of being held by him, the unspoken apologies, the regret, and the love. He’s not saying it, but he’s showing it in the way he touches me.

His lips pull away just for a moment, and I’m left wanting more. His eyes lock onto mine, dark with emotion, and for the first time, I see the raw vulnerability in them. He’s still holding me close, but there’s something softer about the way he looks at me now—like he’s finally letting down the walls he’s built around himself.

“Lenny,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and thick with emotions he doesn’t know how to name.

I trace his jawline, my thumb brushing over the rough stubble, trying to tell him everything with just a touch. “I’m here,” I murmur. “I’m right here.”

And for a moment, it’s just us—no past, no hurt, only the present.

But as he kisses me again, I realize this isn’t just about physical desire. It’s about connection. It’s the ache of six years, the pain of what we’ve both lost, but also what we still have. And Luca’s touch tells me that he’s ready for that. He’s ready to let go of the past, to let me back in, and maybe, just maybe, to forgive himself.

“Please tell me I draw another face card next,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice low and full of longing. His hands tighten their grip on me, anchoring us together.

“There’s nothing but face cards now,” I reply with a mischievous smile.

“Thank fuck for that.” He captures my lips again, his kiss more urgent this time. He holds me tightly as he stands, kicking the chair back in the process. He places me on the desk, setting me down gently. My legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer, as I rock my hips against him. The heat between us is electric, building with each touch, each kiss.

He trails his lips down my neck, across my collarbone, and back up again. His voice is a husky whisper in my ear. “Can I take you to my room?”

“Yes.” The word barely escapes my lips before he’s carrying me out of the office, our mouths colliding as he takes the stairs two at a time.

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