Page 69 of Forbidden Vengeance

Mario stands up, his lips shiny, and his hands go to my hips to support me while I finish coming down from my orgasm. My lips crash against his and I can taste myself on him. He groans deeply into my mouth as he pushes me back up against the wall, a hand coming between us to undo his pants.

I pull them down myself and they pool around his ankles, the full length of him springing free. I can feel my slickness against my thighs and I place my hands around his neck as he lifts me up, his strong hands gripping either thigh.

My legs wrap around his waist as he slides into me. I cry out as he hisses through his teeth at how wet I am before he begins moving slowly inside me.

“Faster,” I whimper, unable to handle just howgoodthis feels. Holding his face in my hands, I kiss him as I start to move against him, wanting to feel that delicious friction. I meet him thrust for thrust as he slides a hand up to squeeze my breast, rolling my sensitive nipple between his fingers.

My head falls back against the wall and a moan escapes me before I can stop myself. The sound seems to spur Mario on because he thrusts rougher into me, his hips smacking into mine. His breath comes in huffs as he adjusts his grip on my hips and pounds deeper into me. His lips crash against mine to devour my moan as release shudders through me, my walls clenching and squeezing him as he spills into me.

Mario continues thrusting, his movements wild and unrestrained as we both come down from our high. His hips finally slow before he buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breaths coming in pants. I brush his hair off his sweaty forehead and kiss the top of his head.

“Bed?” I remark, my legs shaking.

After, as we lay tangled in sheets, I trace the many scars mapping Mario’s chest—each one telling its own story of survival. “You were going to let them kill you,” I whisper, the realization hitting me fully. “If it meant keeping me safe.”

“There was no ‘letting’ about it.” His voice is rough as he pulls me closer, his hand gentle on my hip. “I told you before—you and this baby are all that matter now.”

“Even though she’s his?” The question that’s been haunting me finally slips out.

Mario’s hand finds my stomach, slightly rounded and holding such complicated promise. His touch is reverent, protective. “She’syours,” he says firmly. “That’s all that matters.”

I turn to face him fully, seeing my own desperate choices reflected in his eyes. The violence and tenderness there, thecapacity for both destruction and protection that drew me to him from the start. “What happens now? Anthony won’t stop. And the evidence I gave Sean…”

“Now we fight smarter.” He kisses my temple, my cheek, my lips—each touch an anchor in this storm we’ve created. “Together. No more solo missions to your office.”

I laugh against his mouth, some of our earlier tension finally dissolving. “No promises.”

His growl of frustration makes me smile. We’re both too stubborn, too used to fighting our own battles.

But maybe that’s what makes us work—two broken pieces fitting together in all the wrong ways to make something stronger.

Something worth protecting.

22

ELENA

Iforce myself to stay busy in this gilded cage, analyzing intelligence and building new alliances while trying not to feel trapped. My conversations with Siobhan have become increasingly frequent—encrypted messages flying back and forth as we reshape the landscape of power.

Your little insurance policy is paying dividends, she texts.Sean says the shipping records alone are worth their weight in gold. And the banking trails? Pure poetry.

“The old men are scrambling,” she’d purred during our last call, delight dripping from every word. “They don’t understand how deeply you’ve mapped their networks. Using their own digital footprints against them—it’s beautiful really.”

“Your father’s traditional routes are particularly vulnerable,” I’d replied, pulling up files I’ve been compiling for months. “The way he moves money through shell companies…it’s so outdated it’s almost quaint.”

Her laugh had been sharp with ambition. “Oh, we’re going to have such fun rebuilding this empire, you and I.”

I spend my days coordinating multiple operations from behind bulletproof glass—managing my legitimate business remotely through Kate (who deserves a massive raise for handling this “family emergency” so smoothly), analyzing Siobhan’s modernization efforts, tracking the ripple effects of Anthony’s exposed trafficking routes.

And when that’s not enough to keep the walls from closing in, I research preschools. Baby gear. Birthing plans. All the normal things expectant mothers are supposed to care about, as if there’s anything normal about my situation.

My phone buzzes constantly with updates from Siobhan’s network. The Irish are moving digital currency through new channels. The younger captains are aligning behind her. The old guard is starting to notice something’s shifting, but they can’t quite see the pattern yet.

I try not to think about Bella, now thirty-two weeks pregnant with twins who could arrive any day. But it’s impossible to avoid her completely—she’s everywhere in the society pages I shouldn’t be reading. Photos of her at charity events, her belly huge but her smile radiant. Matteo hovering protectively behind her, one hand always resting where his children grow.

I was supposed to be there. To hold her hand through delivery, to meet my godchildren, to share every moment of this journey with my best friend. Instead, I’m hiding in a safe house, carrying another man’s child while helping dismantle the very world Bella’s children will inherit.

The irony is bitter enough to choke on.

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