Page 84 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

“Yes, I sent them the status. They’ll be there at the fundraiser. Vasili’s wife insisted. She has the scary fucker wrapped around her little finger.”

We both grinned. Vasili and his brothers were a special kind of breed. It was almost comical seeing them cave to a woman’s request. Probably as comical as seeing me lose my shit over my own wife.

Movement outside had me glancing to the French doors. Grace and Ella stood outside, all dolled up. There was no mistaking they were going out. My wife wore a black strapless gown, accenting her soft curves and it made my cock jump. Each step she took, slits of her dress revealed her long legs. Her heels peeked underneath her long dress and I noticed they were nude color. She never liked matching her shoes to dress color. I still remembered her reasoning.

It makes it stand out when my shoes are a different color from the dress.

Her ginger hair, stark against the dress, was pulled up in a slick, high ponytail, exposing her graceful neck and slim shoulders. She was ready for the fundraiser event although it was too early and she wasn't wearing the dress I sent for her.

Admittedly, this looked beautiful on her so there would be no complaints from me. There would be men I’d have to fight to ensure nobody touched her. Pride swelled inside my chest; it made me want to shout to the world that she was my woman, have it blasted across every billboard sign in the city and surrounding states.

I was surprised she didn’t resist going. I almost expected and readied for bickering. Like our own little foreplay.

Without thinking twice, I strode to the French door and opened them wide.

“Tesoro, you look stunning,” I complimented her. She whipped around, her violet blue eyes capturing me in their depths, making me feel like I was drowning. There were so many layers and depths to my woman. Her cheeks blushed pink and it reminded me of how she looked in the heat of passion. Flushed and perfect. I had to stop thinking about that, otherwise I’d get a major case of blue balls. “We have another few hours before we leave for the fundraiser,” I added.

She cleared her throat. It was her telltale of nervousness. “I have something else I have to take care of before your fundraiser.”

“What?” I questioned her.

The briefest of glances between her and Ella told me something was going on.

“Just some business.” Her voice was calm but the graceful movement of her neck as she swallowed, told me she wasn’t calm. In fact, she was the exact opposite. Rattled, nervous… almost scared.

I told myself not to lose my shit, to keep my temper under control, keep a lid on my jealousy. And I fucking lost. I always fucking lost around my wife. I wanted her everything and it made me blind as fuck. Just like my father and Cassio claimed.

“What kind of fucking business are you doing dressed like that?”

I acted like a damn jackass, startling Grace but she quickly got herself together.

“I didn’t know you were back home,” she answered in a soft voice, avoiding answering my question.

Fuck, she could read a damn recipe of chopped livers in her soft voice and I’d get a hard on.

“I sure am. Now, where are you going?”

“Out. For. Business.”

I gritted my teeth, hating the idea of any man seeing her dressed hot like this. Or even worse, touching her.

“What fucking business? Shouldn’t you stay home with the baby?” It pissed me off to think of her going anywhere without me. “Besides, we are driving to the fundraiser together.”

Her delicate eyebrows frowned. “Nonno is watching Matteo. And I’ll meet you at the venue. I have to take care of something.”

“Who are you going with?” I hissed, jealousy eating at me. She rolled her eyes at me. “Did you just-”

“Yes, Luciano. Yes, I did. I just rolled my eyes at you.” Annoyance on her face and her voice portrayed agitation. But there was something else there too that I couldn’t decipher. “As you can see, Ella and I are busy. We will meet you at your venue if we can, text me the address. And now go get a damn life, and stay the hell out of mine.”

“I’m your husband,” I spat out.

“Jesus, I wish you’d stop saying that. Like it will make me do whateveryouwant me to do. We are pretty much separated,” she accented the word. “On our way to an annulment. You know the definition of annulment? Marriage never happened. So please, for the love of God, stop saying you are my husband.”

She turned her back to leave when I grabbed her forearm, getting into her face. “You can’t go out looking like that!” I growled low.

“You just said I looked stunning. What is your problem, Luciano?” she hissed. “Just because you dragged me back to get what you wanted, it doesn’t mean my life stops. I have things to take care of. So please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What things?” The moment I asked, I could see on her face she regretted her words.

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