ROMAN'S P.O.V
If Elio could see me right now, he'd put a bullet in my head to put me out of my misery.
I'm sure my old man must be groaning in his grave, or hell, to see his son, the one he trained to be ruthless, emotionless, and unfeeling, turn soft over a woman.
What is wrong with me?
This whole trip was to partner with Fabiano, the leader of the New York outfit; although he did invite me and my wife, I could have left her, like I did the last time, but after that kiss yesterday, something shifted.
It's her lips. No questions. They were made for seduction. After that kiss, I couldn't bear to leave her for two weeks, unattended to. Alone.
And so I made a last-minute decision to convert this into a honeymoon.
“Thank you, Roman,” she says again, those blue-gray eyes bright in a w
