Page 75 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

She looked up, fire and tears in her eyes. “I am yours.” Then her lips met mine, her kiss laced with need and adoration.

I devoured her lips like I couldn’t get enough, because I couldn’t.

She finally stepped into the room and ran her fingers across the state-of-the-art sewing machines, cutting table, mannequins, and the open wooden closet space meant to display her designs.

“This is a designer’s dream. I could start a whole purse line in here.”

Nothing but the best for my woman. And yet… guilt twisted in my gut.

She didn’t know I was Angelo. Didn’t know I was her benefactor, the one who upgraded her design studio in secret.

We moved into her office next. “You can design this space anyway you like,” I told her.

She tapped her finger on her lower lip. “I have a vision.”

After I gave her a tour of the entire home, she fell onto the bed.

“This place is massive,” she remarked.

“I’ll make dinner, but first, I need a nap,” she said with a yawn.

I had worn her out this weekend. That was the plan. Looking down at her, I smiled, knowing that soon she’d be carrying the heir to my throne.

TWO WEEKS LATER

This was a calculated risk. Dressed sharp in a navy tuxedo, I stood and stared up at The Met’s stairs. In the middle of a war, I had deliberately chosen to appear at one of New York’s most famous tourist spots to make a statement.

I had no idea when Michelangelo would catch wind that I was in New York. After decimating his men like a kid playing with toy soldiers, he was on high alert. I knew that once he learned of my presence, he’d dispatch his crew to take me down. That asshole was like a maggot embedded in my skin. And soon, I’d cut him out for good.

My Glocks rested snugly in the gun holster inside my tuxedo jacket. I was geared up for battle.

I tapped my earpiece. “How are we looking?”

“Vino, as of now it’s clear,” came Glacier’s response from his vantage point atop the Gilded-Age mansion roof.

He informed the person in charge that a powerful government official would be attending The Met tonight.

A gleaming rose gold Rolls Royce Phantom pulled up to the curb. Xavier stepped out, rounded the car, and opened the back door.

Rose gold stilettos touched the ground, followed by the shimmer of a rose-gold gown.

The woman took Xavier’s arm as I descended the steps.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her eyes wide as I descended the stairs to meet her. Pedestrians on both sides of the steps stopped in awe, smartphones already snapping.

“Thanks, Xavier,” I said, as I took Claire’s hand and looped her arm through mine.

“No problem, boss.”

“Eyes wide open,” I added.

He gave a sharp nod.

Claire glanced around. “What are we doing at The Met? This place is sacred in the fashion world. The Met Gala? Legendary.” Her voice was full of wonder.

Herwords revealed how much she cherished her career.

As we climbed the stairs, my eyes swept over her body. The rose gold shimmery satin dress clung to her nice curves. All that ass and those thighs only made me want to grip it and have her wrap her thighs around my head. The dress featured thick straps that extended beyond her shoulders with a futuristic flair, and its corset-like midsection emphasized her stunning bust.

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