Page 20 of The Forever One
“Boss… Boss. It’s over.” J tentatively puts her hand on Marco’s shoulder and he turns and almost punches her too, but she steps back quickly enough, her arms raised in surrender.
His eyes are wild as he searches the room. When they land on me, he immediately stands, stalking over to me like he’s on a mission. We’re both covered in blood and I’m not sure how much of it is our own. Hopefully not a lot. He grabs my face in his hands and pulls my head against his, claiming my lips in a searing kiss before resting his forehead against mine.
“Let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
MARCO
It turns out the Volpe name solicits unconditional love and devotion from the people of Naples and especially from the neighboring villages and towns. Before we left the farm where we were being held, loyal supporters who remembered how well the Volpe family took care of them rushed to help in any way they could. Our only request was for a few items of clothing for River. They didn’t hesitate, quickly bringing her jeans, a tee shirt, and shoes her size. Without these brave people tonight, shit would have ended a lot differently.
The thought of what could have been has me flexing my vice-like grip around River’s waist, pulling her flush against me while we ride to the hotel a friend of my mother’s reserved for us.
“Hey.” I whisper that one word into her hair, placing my lips at her crown and inhaling her scent. We’re both being careful not to jolt our respective wounds and despite the fact that I was washed up, I need a real shower to scrub the stench of Elizabeth’s hands off me.
The angry slash across River’s face is a constant reminder of how close she also came to dying at the hands of those fucking psychos. Touching her, feeling her warm skin against mine, reassures me on a visceral level. She’s alive and in my arms and, although I never lost hope, there were times in that dank barn that dark thoughts invaded my mind.
Thoughts of life without River. Of a life without her light. Of an existence without her soul-healing presence.
A life I refuse to entertain.
“Hey.” Craning her neck back, she pierces me with those penetrating green eyes and despite the fatigue and the toll these last few days has had on us, her love shines through, which is more than I deserve from her.
“I guess a heart-to-heart is long overdue.” I close my eyes, lips still resting on the top of her head when her sass lights up my nervous system.
“Oh,nowhe wants to talk.”
I should bite that smirk off her face, or maybe lick it from her mouth all the way down to her pussy, but now is not the time.
“In my defense, I wa—” My words are interrupted by her palm slapping against my mouth.
“Marco Mancini, do not give me fucking excuses. There is no defense for your lack of good judgment. But…” She removes her hand and palms my cheek, her lips sliding across my hungry ones. “I’ll let you make it up to me.”
Oh, I like where this is going.
“You may be resistant at first, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
Wait, what now?
“Oh, Tesoro, it’s impossible for me to resist you.” My first warning that I was about to get punked was her throaty laugh bouncing around the confined space of the car.
“You say that now but you don’t know what your punishment is going to be. Although, if I do things right, it’s more of a reward.” In the last three days, I’ve gone through the entire spectrum of emotions but the ominous way my wife is threatening me takes the fucking cake.
“River.”
“Marco.”
“What’s the punishment?”
“I guess you’ll just have to be patient, won’t you?”
Yeah, it’s still not a quality I possess.
I hand over a few euros to the driver—J made sure I had some on me just in case—and just when I thank him, he gives me a knowing look. The look all married guys share when they recognize a fellow husband renting out a dog house for the foreseeable future. It doesn’t matter that he’s Italian and probably didn’t understand a single word we said, he can sense that I’m fucked.
In more ways than just one.
By the time we check in and make it to the penthouse suite, we’re both back inside our heads, quiet and pensive. The click of the door behind us acts as a wake-up call, clearing the fog and forcing us to return to the here and now.