Luca
We've been so busy with attending these good damn events that we've seemingly ceased fire on hating one another and have been getting along rather well—too well, so much so it's unsettling.
We're at a dinner with three other Mafia families, each of us heirs, the future dons of our organisations. This is the last event my father threw our way, and it's the most relaxed, bordering on enjoyable.
These are the men I'll be handling business within the coming years, and as I sit here watching Emma do her thing, I find myself swooning at her as if we were those loved-up teenagers and not bitter adults.
How did she get so good at handling herself around people? And why does the ability to lead the whole room have my balls aching and my c**k extremely hard and sensitive to her every move?
