Page 67 of Savage Union
It should feel degrading. I’m on my knees, spit-slick and used, throat raw and flooded by his essence. But all I feel is… victorious.
Because this?Thisis power.
He may be the one standing. He may have been the one giving orders. But I’m the one who made him come apart. I’mthe one who had him swearing my name like a curse and a prayer. I’m the one who left him panting, dazed, completely wrecked.
When I finally pull back, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, I look up at him through my lashes.
And the look on his face?
Worship.
“I didn’t think you had that in you,” he says hoarsely, voice still thick with release.
I smile—small, sweet, and just a little smug. “Neither did I.”
Afterward, we straighten our clothing in silence, the reality of what just happened—and where—slowly seeping back in. What was I thinking? What came over me? The adrenaline from the shooting, the confusion of seeing Vito risk his life for mine, the strange intimacy of him knowing my favorite breakfast spot—none of it quite explains why I just did... that.
Vito looks completely composed again, not a hair out of place as he adjusts his tie. The only sign of what transpired is a slight flush to his skin and the darkness of his eyes as he watches me smooth down my dress.
"Are you alright?" he asks, the question surprisingly gentle.
I nod, not trusting my voice. What could I possibly say? That I just willingly pleasured the man who killed my father, who forced me into this engagement, who I've been plotting against with his enemies? That despite everything, my body betrayed me with a desire I can't explain or justify?
He steps closer, tilting my chin up with one finger. "No regrets, Caterina. What happens between us is ours alone."
Before I can respond, there's a gentle knock at the door. "Don Rosso? Miss Gallo? Is everything alright?" Father Alessandro's concerned voice filters through.
"One moment, Father," Vito calls, his tone perfectly normal, as if we haven't just desecrated the priest's office. He studies my face once more, then moves to open the door.
Father Alessandro enters cautiously, his expression a mixture of concern and relief when he sees us both standing at a respectable distance from each other.
"We'll need to reschedule, Father," Vito says smoothly. "Something has come up that requires our immediate attention."
"Of course, of course." The priest nods eagerly. "These things happen. Shall we say next week?"
"My office will be in touch." Vito reaches into his inner jacket pocket and withdraws an envelope, which he passes to Father Alessandro with practiced discretion. "For the church's renovation fund."
The priest accepts the envelope without looking inside, though the thickness suggests it contains far more than a typical donation. "God bless you for your generosity, Don Rosso."
I watch this exchange with a strange detachment, as if observing a scene in a movie rather than my own life. Is this how it works in Vito's world? Money smoothing over every awkward situation, buying silence and compliance wherever needed?
And isn't that exactly what I just did—offered compliance, even enthusiasm, in exchange for... what? Protection? A momentary feeling of power? The rush of being wanted by a dangerous man?
Vito's hand at the small of my back guides me toward the door. "Good day, Father."
"Miss Gallo, it was lovely to meet you," Father Alessandro says warmly. "I look forward to helping you both prepare for your special day."
I manage a smile that feels stretched and false. "Thank you, Father."
Outside, the afternoon sun feels too bright, too exposing. Dante waits beside the car, his expression carefully neutral though I wonder if he somehow knows what just happened. Can he see it on my face? Smell it on my skin?
"Back to the penthouse?" he asks as Vito approaches.
"Yes," Vito nods. "Take Caterina home. Make sure she's safe."
I turn to him, a strange disappointment washing over me. "You're not coming with me?"
His eyes meet mine, something possessive darkening his gaze. "I need to deal with whoever thought they could shoot at what's mine." The way he says "mine" sends an unexpected shiver through me.
