Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
For a man who nearly died, Adriano looks surprisingly good. Maybe he just always looks that good. We get him back to the house, and I tuck him into bed, basically browbeating him into doing nothing but sitting and relaxing. He’s in a pair of dark sweats and no shirt, his torso wrapped in gauze, the wound covered and stitched closed.
“Dr. Chen said I’m fine,” he mutters, looking annoyed as I put another pillow behind his back. “You’re going too far. I have a war to run.”
“And I have a husband to nurse.” I kiss him lightly. “Shut up and stop whining.”
He glares but doesn’t argue. I swear, the man’s a vicious lion, but I can get him to act like a lamb.
I give him his painkillers, which he doesn’t want to take but eventually gives in, and I make sure to fill his antibiotic prescription. Then Donatella helps me make him lunch. “His favorite, pasta e fagioli.” She beams at me as she spoons a big helping of soup into a bowl. “Tell him you made it.”
“How about you teach me, and I actually cook it next time?”
“That’s a plan.”
I carry his meal to him on a tray. As I head into the room, I catch him standing by his dresser, grimacing as he pulls on a shirt.
“What the hell are you doing?” I rush over, nearly spilling the tray as I corral him back into bed.
“I have work,” he says, letting me drag him back to his spot. I place the tray down beside him as I practically shove him down on the bed. “This is serious, amore mio. Vittorio’s out there looking for Frank. I can’t be sitting in bed eating soup.”
“It’s your favorite,” I say and straddle him. His eyes widen as his hands move to my hips, his fingers digging into my ass. “Listen to me right now.” I grind my pelvis down into his crotch, careful not to jostle his injured side. “I nearly lost you. Seeing you bleeding like that on the couch nearly broke me. I’m not about to let you walk out of this room until you’re completely healed.”
He licks his lips and smiles slightly. He reaches up and tugs my hair, pulling me down to him, and he crushes his mouth into mine. I kiss him hard, desperate and yearning, trying to burn off some of the anxiety I’m still feeling. He’s so warm and solid, and his taste is like heaven. This man is real—he’s real—and he’s still mine.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says very softly. “I’m hurt, but I’m not finished. Dr. Chen will be here to monitor me when I come back.”
“How can you talk about leaving right now?”
“I promise I’ll be careful. Vittorio will do the heavy lifting. But he called while I was in surgery, and I have to go now. I can’t wait any longer.”
I blink back tears. “You’re really starting to make me hate this whole mafia thing.”
“I’m sorry, amore mio, but you’re getting the bad parts all at once. My life isn’t all violence and hate. There’s a lot of good too. There’s family and power. There’s you now.” He kisses me again, gentle and soft, like he’s savoring the feeling of my lips. “Let me go, baby. I’ll come back.”
“I’m going to eat your soup.”
“That’s okay. I’m sure Donatella will make more.”
“How about this? You hurry home to me. You make sure you come back in one piece. And I’ll cook it myself. She said she’ll teach me.”
He smiles and pulls me in for another hard kiss. This one lingers, probing and promising. I pull back, cheeks flushed.
“That sounds like heaven.” He pats my ass, and I reluctantly get out of his lap. “Come, my love. Help me up.”
I move to his side. He leans on me as he climbs out of bed, cursing softly as he does it. I help him get the shirt on, then I hold his hand as he heads down the steps. Dr. Chen’s waiting in the living room, looking unhappy about this, but he only shakes his head. “I’m getting paid no matter what,” he says and looks down at his phone. “It’s your funeral.”
I walk with my husband to the car. Luca’s already waiting. He looks like he wants to say something, but a gesture from Adriano silences him. My husband turns to me, bends down, cradles my cheek, and kisses me lightly.
“I’ll be back soon, my love. I promise.”
I blink back more tears. “Why do I feel like that’s not true?”
“Because you’re afraid for me. And that only makes me want you even more. But I’m strong, and what I’m about to do will make me even stronger. So no more tears, love. No more softness. You’re Lucy Marino now.”
I raise my chin. I steady my quivering lip. “I’ll see you soon then.”