MY MAFIA BOYFRIEND

Whatever You Want

Julian didn’t let her go for a long time.

When he finally eased back, he kept one hand at the back of her neck, thumb resting lightly against her skin. The anger had cooled into something heavier and more deliberate.

“I’m going to increase security,” he said. “The service elevators will need clearance from now on. Dante will handle it.”

Isabella nodded, still standing close enough to feel the heat of him.

Julian studied her face. “Did she try to convince you to leave?”

“She asked if I was safe. She asked if I still had a choice.” Isabella hesitated. “She didn’t demand I come home. She just needed to see me.”

He accepted that with a short nod, then guided her toward the couch. Once she sat, he remained standing for a moment, looking down at her like he was still deciding how much of his control to ease.

“I don’t enjoy keeping you from your mother,” he said at last. “But I won’t risk you. Not after your father showed up with men. Not after the way people in my world look at soft targets.”

Isabella looked up at him. “Then help me find a middle ground. Because I can’t just erase her.”

Julian was quiet for several seconds. Finally he sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched.

“I’ll consider a controlled meeting,” he said. “Somewhere I choose. With my people nearby. No father. No ex. No surprises. That’s as far as I’m willing to go right now.”

It wasn’t everything she wanted, but it was more than the flat refusal he had given before.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Julian turned his head and pressed a slow kiss to her temple, lingering there.

“Don’t thank me yet.

“I’m still angry you left,” Julian said, voice low. “But I’m glad you came back.”

Isabella turned in his arms so she was facing him fully. She studied the tension still held in his jaw, the way his hands rested on her like he hadn’t completely let the fear go. Without speaking, she climbed into his lap, knees on either side of his hips, and rested her hands on his chest.

“I know,” she said quietly. “Let me make it better.”

Julian’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t stop her when she leaned in and kissed him. The first kiss was slow. The second one wasn’t. She rolled her hips down against him and felt the immediate response through his pants. His hands tightened on her waist.

“Isabella—”

“I mean it,” she whispered against his mouth. “Tonight you can do whatever you want. I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to pull away. I just want you to stop looking at me like I might disappear again.”

Something in him snapped into sharp focus.

In one controlled movement he stood, lifting her with him, and carried her to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and let her push him back. Isabella pulled his shirt open, then undid his pants with steady hands. When she freed his c**k he was already hard. She didn’t tease. She sank down onto him in one slow, deliberate slide, taking every inch while her eyes stayed on his.

Julian’s breath left him in a rough exhale. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck.”

She started to move — steady, deep rolls of her hips that kept him buried inside her. Julian watched her with that intense, possessive stare, the earlier anger transforming into pure hunger. When she leaned down to kiss him again, he met her halfway, one hand fisting in her hair.

“You meant it?” he asked against her mouth, voice rough. “Whatever I want?”

“Yes.”

That was all he needed.

He flipped them without pulling out, pinning her beneath him, and drove into her with deep, relentless thrusts. One hand stayed in her hair, the other braced beside her head. He f****d her like he was still proving she was here — hard, thorough, claiming every sound she made. When he pulled out it was only long enough to turn her onto her hands and knees before pushing back in to the hilt.

“You don’t leave again without telling me,” he growled against her ear, never slowing. “Say it.”

“I won’t,” Isabella gasped.

He kept her there until her arms shook, then brought her back around and made her ride him again, guiding her hips with firm hands, watching every expression that crossed her face. He came deep inside her with a low, guttural sound, holding her down through it so she felt every pulse.

Even afterward he didn’t let her move far. He stayed buried inside her, forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard.

“You’re mine,” he said quietly. “You don’t get to vanish. Not even for an hour.”

Isabella’s fingers stroked through his hair, her body still trembling around him.

“I’m right here,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Julian kissed her again — slower this time, but no less intense — and for the rest of the night he took exactly what she had offered, keeping her close, keeping her full, and making certain neither of them forgot she had chosen to come back.