Page 74 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

My eyebrows rose in surprise. “Is it really that bad?”

“It’s the black floors and countertops, the gray and gold stools. You need bursts of bright color.”

I leaned down and playfully nibbled on her lower lip for a beat. “You’re here now. Change it up.”

Claire smiled.

“After the war is over,” I told her.

“I can plan and prepare everything in the meantime.” Standing on her tiptoes, her lips found mine.

Then her voice lowered. “I’m scared, Vino. I don’t want to lose you out there.”

My heart clenched. “And I don’t want you caught in my war.”

“It’s our war now, Vino. He’s coming for my soon to be husband. Which means he wants me to light that ass up.”

“Fuck, baby, keep saying shit like that and I’ll have you bent over the dark countertop.”

Claire pulled her lower lip into her mouth. “Yeah?”

“After the tour, I’ll give you the dick.”

“Okay,” she purred.

As we strolled through the living room, I could see Claire’s mind at work; it was clear that interior design was her passion.

“We’re going to brighten up this mansion,” she declared as we entered the atrium.

Her mouth fell open. “Now this is breathtaking,” she said, her eyes marveling at the mural on the ceiling. “You literally brought the sky into your home.”

The swirling blues and whites depicted the perfect spring day.

“I work with a lot of darkness, so I need to step into the light at least once a day.” I winked.

“The sky really makes your beautiful blue eyes pop. This is the centerpiece of your home.”

“Our home,” I corrected her gently.

“Our home,” she echoed.

We continued our tour. I led her to my office, where she admired the built-in mahogany bookcase stretching along the entire wall and the velvet, navy tufted sofa. The only thing she mentioned adding was a white rug.

Interlocking our fingers, I led her down the hallway and said, “Open that door,” as I pointed to the right.

She looked at me, curious, then turned the knob. The second the door swung open, she gasped and dropped to her knees, tears spilling from her eyes.

“What is this?” she whispered. “Vino… what is this?” she asked again.

Had I overstepped by creating a private fashion studio? Even if I had, I didn’t care. She’d learn to accept it. I lifted her to her feet and pulled her up into my arms.

She clung to me. “You really care about me. If there was any doubt before, there isn’t now,” she cried.

“Claire, I told you this is your home.”

She held me tighter. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

“You never will again. Because you’re mine, Claire. Fucking mine.”

---