Page 46 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“Mm, on what?” he purred, running his lips over my jaw. He released my neck and trailed his fingers downward, tracing the low-cut neckline of my dress. His lips pressed against my pulse point, then where my neck met my shoulder, and then his teeth grazed my bare shoulder before he kissed the small red mark. “Olesya?”

All coherent thought flew from my mind when his hand wrapped around mine, and he brought my wrist to his mouth, sucking the sensitive flesh. “What did you say?”

Dante chuckled, and I knew I’d need to change my underwear after dinner because of how wet that sound made me. “I want to know if you’ll do anything I ask.”

My knees buckled when his tongue darted out, following where his lips had trailed. My husband caught me, his arm wrapping around my waist. I shivered, staring up into his eyes, where a seductive fire blazed.

“You know what I think?” His voice was practically a growl. I shook my head, unable to find the words. He smirked. “I think you’ll do anything I ask right now. You’d let me push you to your knees and fuck your throat. Or maybe I want to lay you out on the table and eat you for dinner.”

I trembled, excited at either prospect. Dante speared his fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, and I felt my legs wobble as he started to lower me to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Ettore’s voice snapped the threat of attraction, making me Dante’s little puppet, causing me to jolt upright again.

Dante glared at his father, turning slightly to hide the bulge in his black suit pants. “Waiting on dinner. What brings you out of your wing of the house?”

“I’ve been known to eat on occasion.” Ettore lifted a brow as he pulled back the chair at the head of the table. He pointed to the other chairs. “Sit.”

I caught Dante’s nearly inaudible scoff before he curled his fingers, massaging my scalp. He released me and took my hand instead, offering me a smile that hid his fading arousal. Instead of seating me across from him, my husband stood beside his father, pulling the next chair out for me.

Ettore watched us like a hawk, the displeasure clear on his face. I wanted to ask Dante what his deal was, but there might not be a reason behind being an asshole when you ran a crime syndicate. My father had always been like that, ruthlessly ruling with an iron fist, yelling at anybody who didn’t follow orders fast enough, and killing those who made mistakes. In comparison, the Neretti household was relatively uneventful.

Martina must have sensed her employer’s presence because she rushed in, balancing three plates of food and serving Ettore before Dante and me. The pop of the cork echoed through the room as she opened a bottle of wine and poured each of us a glass, then bustled out of the dining room.

Unlike other family dinners, Ettore didn’t wax poetic with a prayer to bless the food. Instead, he sliced into the tender steak on his plate, ignoring the salad and potatoes completely. It was almost stereotypical, given his obsession with toxic masculinity.

“Where do we stand with the Russians?” he asked between bites.

Dante glanced toward me before taking his time cutting the steak. “There hasn’t been much change.”

“They’re rodents,” Ettore spat. Literally. Bits of meat flew from his mouth, and I tried not to look at where they landed on the table. “Crawling out of the gutter and infesting the city streets. Spreading their plague and killing my men.”

I clenched my fist under the table and kept my eyes down. He was talking about my old family. I wondered briefly whether my brothers would still call me family after my marriage.

Dante’s larger hand covered my fist, squeezing reassuringly. “We’ve got it under control.”

“Like hell you do.” Ettore pointed his knife at his son. “I’m tired of losing men. I want them stopped, and soon.”

“I’m working on it,” my husband said through gritted teeth. He shoved a bite of steak past his lips, and I watched his jaw work.

“Not fast enough.”

“And what would you propose?” Dante asked, almost mockingly.

Ettore narrowed his eyes. “Kill them.”

“We have,” Dante scoffed. “They kill us. We kill them. I’m trying to force a truce.”

It was obvious my husband was affected by the deaths differently than his father. Ettore loathed the loss of manpower, while Dante mourned the loss of souls.

“No.” Ettore shook his head and set his fork down, leaning forward. “Kill the brothers. It will temporarily scatter the organization as the others fight for power—give us time to eradicate the rest of the bastards.”

I gasped at his callous execution order. My face heated, and my blood boiled. I could stay silent about a lot of questionable things, but I would not stand for him speaking like that about my family.

I nearly knocked my chair over as I leaped to my feet and slammed my palm on the table. “Adrik and Yuri are smarter than that. You underestimate my brothers, and that will be your downfall!”

The man actually scoffed at me. “Doubtful. Your brothers are stupid enough to go out alone. Perfect targets.”

“They’re never alone,” I hissed, my smile wry. Dante cleared his throat and wrapped a hand around my wrist, but I ignored his attempt to get me to back off. Rage and pride fueled me. “Their security is smart enough to stay out of sight, to lure out those who would harm them and take them out before they can act. They have snipers positioned during meetings. You will never get close enough to touch them.”

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