The kingpin's obsession: Lena

16

Nestled inside was a necklace—silver and diamond, glimmering like it had been spun out of moonlight itself. The stones caught every bit of light in the room, dazzling, elegant, and perfectly suited to the emerald dress I wore.

“Is this real?” the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Of course it is, Dolcezza.” Vincenzo chuckled softly, the sound deep and velvety. “You’re my princess, only the best for you.” he added as he took out the necklace and unclasped the hook.

I quickly spun around in my heels to face the vanity as I waited patiently he put it on me, his fingers softly bushing my exposed neck and I shivered feeling the weight of his hands on me.

“Perfecto.” Vincenzo murmured softly as he leaned down to kiss my bare shoulder. I’m glad I deiced to tie my hair up in a bun tonight.

The necklace looked even more beautiful around my neck and through the reflection in the mirror I caught Vincenzo’s predatory gaze trained on my face. I gulped softly then gave him a loopy grin as I turned around.

“I know I’m your wife, but I can’t helpp but feel like I’d be in your debt again.” I teased him with a dry joke, referring back to our first encounter. Thankfully he got it.

“Consider all your debts paid, Red.” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch romantic. “If anything, I’m the one in your debt. You’ve given me more than most.”

“Oh? And what’s that.” I bit back my smile because I knew what he was trying to say, but I wanted to hear him say it again…and again, and again.

“Really? You really want me to say it again?”

“What? I’m not a mind reader, if you don’t tell me what you want to say, I won’t know.” I huffed, placing my both my hands on my hips.

“little brat.” he huffed. His irritation being over ridden by amusement. “I f*****g love you, Lena and I would burn down this country if I ever thought something brought you discomfort or pain.”

He was telling the truth. And I don’t know if I should have been worried that he meant it when he said he’d burn down this country for me, or just find it endearing…both, I was allowed to feel both. He didn’t show it, but I could feel this thing with Milano was messing with him. After all we were on enemy turf and a long way from home, I could only imagine how stressed the family must be, especially with me being a few weeks pregnant with the next heir.

“If I’m being honest, I thought you’d forgotten.” I pouted softly as I played with his collar.

He smirked, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him. “Tsk, I practically have it tattooed to my chest, bella mia. Apirl 17th.”

I lifted my chin up, the cool metal kissing my skin, and the daisies pressed against my chest. “It’s beautiful.”

“If that’s beautiful, then you’re gorgeous, darling.” Vincenzo’s voice came out low, almost a groan, as his hand caught mine and spun me in a slow twirl.

I laughed, the hem of the emerald dress brushing against my legs as I turned. When I stopped, he was already watching me like a starving man.

“Signora Bianchi really outdid herself with this dress,” he muttered, his jaw tight, eyes dragging over me like he couldn’t help himself. “Too damn well.”

My cheeks burned, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “I’ll be sure to thank her, then.”

He narrowed his eyes in that way he does when he’s half serious, half teasing. “Don’t you dare.”

I rolled my eyes, pretending to adjust the slit at my thigh just to torment him. The effect was immediate—his breath hitched, and his fingers flexed at his side like he was resisting the urge to grab me.

Just then his phone vibrated in his pocket, the faint buzz pulling him back to reality. He glanced at the small screen without a word then slipped it away like nothing mattered more than this moment. Extending his arm toward me, Vincenzo offered it with that calm confidence that always made me feel both safe and slightly on edge.

I slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow, my fingers curling against the fine fabric of his suit.

“ time to go, baby.”

Downstairs, the night air met us with the low rumble of engines. Several black SUVs were lined up along the curb, their tinted windows catching the glow of the streetlights and in the center was Vincenzo’s car—sleek, black, and intimidating, just like the man himself.

Vincenzo guided me to it with a hand at the small of my waist, steady and firm. He then opened the door for me like a true gentleman, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second. But as I slid into the passenger seat, he leaned in, his hand pressed flat against the roof of the car.

“By the way,” he whispered, voice dripping with mischief, “I really liked what you did with your mouth and t**s last night.”

My jaw dropped, heat flooding my cheeks instantly. I snapped my head toward him, ready to hiss his name, but all I got was the smug flash of his grin before he shut the door with a solid thud as if that was enough to save him from my err. Through the glass, I caught a glimpse of him walking around the car, calm and unhurried, like he hadn’t just dropped the filthiest, most shameless remark into the night air.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath, crossing my arms over my chest—though not without feeling the traitorous curl of a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.