Page 34 of My Mafia Queen

It’s been a transformational moment in my life, and I feel good and want to live every second with him like it’s my last.

Because it might just be.

We make the trip back in silence, no longer talking about the men in LA or why I went there without him.

He seems unfazed.

We enter his suite, and soon after, the servers walk into his place, bringing the food.

They must’ve had it ready in the kitchen.

No one can cook that fast. Not even for him.

The people exit the suite, and he swiftly removes his suit jacket.

His broad shoulders set off the crisp dress shirt stretching over his muscles and his tailored fitted vest.

He also removes his gun and sets everything on a chair.

“Do you want to eat now?” he asks, a soft smile glinting in his eyes.

I shake my head.

He stretches this hand out and locks mine before leading me to the bedroom.

His room is cold and smells like him. A mix of spicy cologne and smoke.

I turn around to ask him something and freeze just as fast, realizing my world as I know it is about to end.

He stops in front of me, tilts his head down, and looks into my eyes, cuffing my neck with his calloused hand.

Heat break across my skin as he moves his fingers into my hair and cups the back of my head.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks, and this is the last thing I thought I’d hear right now.

No one has ever asked me that.

What I wanted always mattered very little.

The solemnity of this moment sobers me up, melting my smile off my lips.

“Yes. I am…” I say quietly. “There is nothing that I want more.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he murmurs, undoing his sexy waistcoat with his free hand.

He kisses my lips before shedding his vest and dropping it to the chair.

His eyes go down while he unbuttons his shirt, taking inventory of my body.

Once his shirt is open and untucked, he unfastens his buckle and unbuttons his pants.

And then he focuses on me.

“You look beautiful,” he says softly while brushing my hair away from my face and my shoulders, pushing it all back.

His words are soft, and his touch is tender, at odds with how big and dangerous he is.

It suddenly hits me that I’m here with Damaso Salla, a man with so much power that he indiscriminately imparts justice and runs the crime underworld with an iron hand.

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