Page 87 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

Luca and Jax became close. Through countless jailhouse phone calls, visitation days that left them both wanting more, and letters where they could say what they really wanted to say.

Enzo could give Luca something Jax couldn’t: a physical connection. Someone to come back to after a rough job and someone to wake up with. Someone to hunt with and someone to miss me with.

I brought the three of them together, and they fell in love trying to save me. They comforted each other when they couldn’t comfort me, and in sharing me, they formed a love that could last through anything.

But it wasn’t complete without their muse, and they were going to live without me as long as they could keep me safe. But not Jax. He dreamt of a life after the hunt, when they could come back to me, tell me everything, and beg for my forgiveness. It makes me smile, knowing Jax has gotten most of his wish—hopefully the most important part.

The hunt is still on, but we’re together now.

Luca was ready for it to end in death—mine or theirs—and he didn’t want to hope. That washes away my smile, and a tear runs out of the corner of my eye. He lived each day knowing it mightbe the one where he finally watched someone kill me because they failed.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, his scent wrapping around me, grounding me. I wish I could take it all away, make it better, but I know it’s not that simple. Still, it feels like I’ve peeled back a layer of him that’s been buried so deep. I can’t help but think it’s my fault that we’re all tangled in this mess together.

But I won’t run from him. Not now. Not after knowing everything he’s done for me; for us.

I can feel how tense he is beneath me. His body is a wall of muscle, taut and stiff, as he tries to push the conversation out of his mind. I don’t let go of him, my arms wrapping tighter around his chest. He doesn’t say anything, but I feel the way his chest rises and falls under my touch—slow and steady, trying to calm the storm inside him.

“What is this tattoo of?” I trace over the shape with my index finger. It’s not defined, more like a smudge of paint.

I sense him smile. He turns over, facing me, pulling me close so we can tangle our legs together. His large hand rubs my hip and slides down my thigh.

“You never told me you were a virgin.” He leans forward slightly, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine. I close my eyes and hide my face against his chest.

“It was embarrassing!” My pitiful excuse is muffled. The moment he realized it flashes in my mind, and I pop my head back up. “No, you didn’t?” I accuse, looking at the tattoo and placing my hand over it.

The marks fit my first and second fingers perfectly. He smiles again, just like he did when I figured out he was Moanster23.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, and I tried to pull out, but you made me stop. Then you put your hand right here on my chest.” He covers my hand with his, holding it against his heart. “Assoon as I left your dorm the next morning, I went to the tattoo shop and had them ink your bloody fingerprints on me.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, a wide grin spreading across my face that matches his. “Luca Bellini, that is simultaneously the most sadistic and romantic thing I’ve ever heard. Why does that turn me on so much?”

His hands run up and down my back. “Because we’re the same brand of twisted, baby. It’s why we’re meant to be together.” He kisses me, and my tongue begs his mouth for entry. He gives it to me. “But I have a confession.”

“Oh God.” I tease, rolling my eyes and collapsing onto my back.

He pulls me back with a chuckle and leans close to my ear. “You were my first too.” He kisses the shell of my ear before looking at me.

“You mean to tell me,” I roll over, pulling him on top of me so he can settle between my legs, “that this—behemoth of a cock”—I grind against him, making him growl as his dick hardens—“had never before graced a pussy before mine?”

He chuckles, and the sound of it seals up some of the cracks in my heart. “You’re very poetic.”

“I try. I’m a pretty good writer. You should read some of my stories.”

He grinds against me now. “If you think I haven’t already read every single one of your books, then I’m hurt.” God, every word he says makes me want to kick my feet like a giddy little girl. Instead, I bite my lip and watch his gaze move down to my mouth. “You took all my firsts too, Lenny. The first hand—other than my own—to make me come. The first tongue”—he licks my lips—“to ever taste my cock.”

Fuck me.

Please actually. Like please... fuck me... disrespectfully, of course.

I kiss him softly, gently, and he responds in kind. Slowly, but with an intensity I can feel down to my bones. I feel him relax, just a little, as his lips move against mine.

I pull away just enough to see his face, to look at him with all the tenderness I’ve been feeling—all the emotion bubbling up from somewhere deep. His eyes are still dark with the weight of everything he’s been carrying, but there’s something softer there now, a flicker of hope.

“I love you, Luca,” I whisper, my hand gently cupping his cheek.

“I just don’t want to lose you again,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. The words are raw, desperate in a way that almost breaks me.

“You won’t. I’m right here, Luca,” I reply, running my thumb across his lips. “Right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

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