Page 100 of Ruthless Grace

The rhythm of our bodies echoes off the glass windows, competing with the deep, distant foghorns blowing along the Mississippi River. I pour years of unspent longing, spare’s guilt, and obsession into every stroke. I make every thrust an unconditional vow, claiming her tissue, her blood, and her soul until there is no distance left between us.

Gia arches wildly against the sofa, her heels clamping around my waist, her bound wrists pulling against the surgical silk ties above her head.

“Luca... yes... right there!” she gasps. “Deeper... don’t stop!”

I speed the pace, my thrusts turning hard, primal, and unrelenting. I reach down between us, my scar-seamed thumb finding her swollen, sensitive clit, working it in tight, wet circles while my cock hammers into her depths. Her inner walls begin to pulse around my shaft. A tight, rhythmic flutter that signals her shattering.

“Look at me, Gia!” I command. “Let me watch you come!”

Gia snaps her dark eyes to mine, her lips parted on a ragged gasp. The moment our eyes meet, her body explodes into a violent, soul-sealing orgasm. Her inner muscles clamp around my cock in powerful, rhythmic spasms, wringing a guttural roar of surrender from my throat.

I drive into her one final time, burying myself as deep as she can take me, and spill inside her, pouring my life, my name, and my future into my Donna.

Long after the waves of passion settle into a deep, quiet ebb, the office falls into a peaceful stillness.

The river fog presses thick against the glass, muting the pale moonlight outside. I lie on the narrow leather sofa, my massive frame wrapped around her, my heavy wool coat draped over our naked, tangled bodies to shield her from the river chill.

Gia lies pressed against my chest, her head resting over my heart, her slow, rhythmic breathing warm against my skin. Her slender wrists remain bound in the white surgical silk ties, resting peacefully over my collarbone.

I reach up with my scar-seamed hand, tracing the soft curve of her shoulder, feeling the steady, unbroken beat of her pulse beneath my fingers. Matteo’s watch ticks four minutes slow on the coffee table beside us, but for the first time in years, the time doesn’t matter.

I press a slow, reverent kiss into her dark hair, locking my arm around her waist, and close my eyes in the dark—knowing my wife has chosen me forever.

43

GIA

The tires of our dark sedan crunch softly over the gravel driveway as we pull through the wrought-iron gates of the Santoro compound.

Before I can even reach for my door handle, Luca has already cut the engine, stepped out of the car, and walked around the front hood. He opens my door with smooth, practiced chivalry, extending his large, warm hand to help me out.

I place my palm in his, feeling the solid, grounding warmth of his fingers wrapping around mine. He holds my hand a second longer than necessary, his dark eyes searching my face with that quiet devotion that makes my heart do a soft, familiar flutter.

“I’ve got you, vita mia,” he murmurs softly, his thumb tracing the back of my knuckles before gently closing my door.

Standing on the broad front porch of the Antebellum mansion, framed by sprawling live oaks and white jasmine, are my four brothers.

Dante stands in the center, turning Papa’s signet ring around his knuckle. Beside him, my twin Nico has his arms crossed, his jaw tight. Renzo stands with his arms loose at his sides, watching with cool assessment, while Marco leans against the porch railing.

There is a lingering beat of old mafia tension in the air: the instinct of four protective brothers seeing the man who once held the entire city in his grip step onto their soil.

Luca doesn’t tense up, and he doesn’t reach for a weapon. He keeps his arm resting gently around the small of my back, his posture calm and completely unarmored.

I don’t step behind him. I smile, lacing my fingers firmly through my husband’s, and lead him up the porch steps.

Nico breaks away from the group first. My twin steps straight past Luca and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug, burying his face in my hair.

“I missed you, Gia,” Nico whispers, squeezing me so tightly I can barely catch my breath. He pulls back, cupping my face with his rough hands, his dark eyes fierce with that lifelong twin bond that has anchored me since we were children. Then he looks over my shoulder at Luca, his jaw setting into a stubborn, protective line. “And don’t worry, I haven’t forgiven him. Someone in this family has to keep this bastard on his toes.”

A soft, genuine laugh escapes my throat. “Nico...”

Luca looks Nico dead in the eye, giving him a quiet, respectful nod. “I’d expect nothing less from you, Nico.”

Dante steps forward next, his heavy posture loosening as he looks at how relaxed I am beside my husband. He wraps me in a warm, protective hug before stepping back to face Luca.

“Welcome back to the house, Luca,” Dante says softly, extending his hand.

Luca takes Dante’s hand in a firm, solid grip. “It’s good to be here, Dante.”