Page 92 of Lord of Ruin

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Page 92 of Lord of Ruin

Stavros kept his body slightly aloft so he could study me, both of us digging our fingers into the other’s hands. There was something even more powerful about his hold, as if this was forming a bond between us that could never be broken. I wasn’t just falling for the man, I was feeling the love like a budding flower sweeping through me. Whether wrong or right, too soon or too much, I didn’t care. I could feel it within him as well, although I also knew he was holding something back.

And it would prevent him from unlocking the rest of his trust and love until he worked through his demons.

We moved together for several minutes until I sensed he could hold back no longer. Our bodies were working in perfect unison, our needs and willpowers similar. As his muscles tensed, so did mine. As his breath grew more ragged, so did mine.

As he erupted deep inside, filling me with his seed, another even more powerful climax rolled through me.

And I almost jinxed the entire blissful moment by telling him that I’d fallen hopelessly and madly in love with him.

CHAPTER 25

Stavros

Love.

I’d never wanted to feel it again. I’d pretended like no woman was worth exploring the option with. I’d convinced myself that living alone was perfectly acceptable and exactly what I’d wanted.

Now, playing house in a place that I didn’t own in a city that I could no longer call my home, I realized how much I’d missed. It had been four days of utter bliss, even though I’d remained anxious and angry about everything that had occurred over the last ten days.

When I came through the door both here and at my uncle’s place where my aunt had taken Jenna a couple of times, it was as if I was finally coming home. I’d managed to shove aside all the worries and concerns, the frustrations of not knowing who the hell was behind the attacks. Although it was looking more and more from the intel my uncle had received that Madden was indeed trying to finish what his father had started years ago.

Perhaps the Death Squad had nothing to do with the games being played. But we were all on edge, the soldiers roaming the streets, talking to informants and those my uncle controlled in business. No one was talking, which made me that much more nervous. But I’d still managed to enjoy spending time with the woman I couldn’t seem to get enough of.

I’d enjoyed nothing more than taking walks with Jenna, showing her the sights. I’d been thrilled to hear her laughter when she’d tasted real Greek yogurt and a dark chocolate gelato for the first time.

I’d adored the way she’d leaned over the railing staring out at the Aegean Sea, the sun adding a perfect shimmer to her porcelain cheeks.

And I’d laid awake every night for hours wishing I could be a better man for her.

But even now, as she cuddled close in my arms after we’d made love and consumed our glasses of wine, I wasn’t as content as I should be. Maybe because my gut told me the shit was about ready to hit the fan.

Or maybe it was because I’d hit a wall with the way I felt about her. And I knew exactly why.

Amara.

I hadn’t used her name in years, had forbidden it not only from my vocabulary but also that of my family. Just the thought of her brought so many deep-seated emotions, so much anger and sadness. I’d done everything in my power to shove her out of my mind, the pain too intense. Now I knew I needed to face it.

Whether I liked it or not.

My brother’s comment about the possibility that Jenna was the same kind of deceitful woman, hired to do a job weighed heavily on my mind even though I was following my gut. Jenna was a beautiful, innocent flower.

Even though the news I’d received moments before walking into the house for the night had been soul crushing.

Maybe it was all about the fact I still needed to have a frank conversation with Jenna about what she might know. While I no longer bought any possibility that she was some kind of plant for Madden or Sean Donnelly out of New York, or even the Armenian clan, there was a still a possibility she’d seen or heard something. But I was no fool either. She would feel instant resentment, even hatred for me insinuating she had anything to do with the attacks. Unfortunately, I’d need to risk infuriating her.

Up to this point, there’d been no real sightings of Madden but with Phoenix’s latest call only a couple of hours before, I had a feeling that would soon change. There was an unspoken rule amongst the various mafia kingpins in a few cities. That included the Big Apple.

No leader could be killed without the approval of a majority of the members of the elite group agreeing. And it had to be for a damn good reason. We didn’t share the same need given there was little competition in Philly other than the Italians, who we’d proctored a limited alliance with. Mostly so there weren’t issues with ships coming and going from the ports.

However, New York was overrun with them. Pick a nationality and they were represented. Back in the sixties, the five families had sat down to talk, determining a set of rules to play by. Anyone who went outside of them was handled in privacy and swiftly. While Viktor Marku had been a fucking asshole for attempting to come into Philly, the fact he and his family had been slaughtered had evidently brought out the mafia families in full force.

Including Gabriel Giordano.

From what I’d learned, he’d joined the group of leaders, one or more of the other members providing evidence of who he believed responsible, Sean Donnelly, the Irish mob leader. The group had voted unanimously to terminate Sean. That was happening tonight.

I’d warned Phoenix that I believed even they’d been used as pawns in Madden’s game, but as with all old school methods, the kind of powerful men who controlled New York were not to be questioned. After all, I was only the Underboss of a less powerful organization.

At least in the minds of many.




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