Page 62 of The Forever One
Letting go of the knife, I leave it where it is, happy that I did what I came here to do… slice the cunt’s throat. Although I’ve more like butchered it, but ya know… minor details.
I want to watch the life drain from her eyes, but I don’t think I’m quite that fucked up yet. Much more of all this shit and I probably will be though.
I move over to Marco and he immediately wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into him and placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.
Gunshots go off as Lina goes to town on her, not wanting any part of her body to touch Elizabeth’s—hence the use of weapons today. She said she’d love to have beat the shit out of her but Elizabeth wasn’t worth the effort or exertion required to do that.
Nobody ever talks about the smell of blood and guts in the movies, but it’s rank as fuck. It’s invading my senses and I think I’m ready to leave this all behind me now. I’m ready to take off my mask and be with my husband, run my club, spend time with my family… all the things that give me life.
So I take a line out of Marco’s book, kissing him gently on the lips and looking him straight in the eye.
“I love you, Husband. Let’s go home.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
MARCO
“Get me Kastellanos on the phone.” My tone leaves no room for questions and Stefano learned this quickly under the rule of my father. In times like these, his guidance would have probably saved us a lot of fucking misery, but here we are. Trial and error.
No more.
It only takes seconds for my desk phone to ring and the Greek accent to echo around my home office.
“To what do I owe the great honor, Don Mancini?”
I have neither the time nor patience to deal with his underhanded pleasantries.
“Thirty minutes, Switzerland.” I want him in a neutral meeting spot, a place of his choosing so he doesn’t feel vulnerable. What he doesn’t know is that I know every fucking spot he likes to use because my enemies are watched twenty-four-seven. It’s how we stay on top. Hell, it’s how we stay alive.
“Business or pleasure?” What he’s really asking is if he needs to bring men for his protection.
“It all depends on you and your brother, Kastellanos.” I don’t have a bite in my tone. In fact, I sound rather bored with this conversation.
“Very well. Brooklyn docks, at the old abandoned brick factory.” I know exactly where he means and, although I figured he’d want to stay in Queens where his men would be easily available, I’m not surprised he’s chosen this place. After all, everyone knows the younger brother likes to dabble in the MC life when being Greek mafia gets too boring for his psychopathic ways.
“Thirty minutes.” I’m only twenty minutes away but I’m guessing he’s about ten out. He thinks he has the advantage. That’s a mistake for those too fucking arrogant to live.
“Where we headed?” Enzo is ready to go, dressed all in black, with what I’m guessing are three guns on him and a couple of knives. The guy does not fuck around.
“Brooklyn docks.” As soon as I’ve spoken, he’s on the phone barking out orders as we close my office door, beelining for the front entrance.
“Where the fuck are you going, Marco?” River is like a ninja wife, one second you’re alone, the next she’s right there, smelling the bullshit from across the fucking house.
“I have a meeting. I’ll be back for—” I don’t have time to finish my phrase before she makes her displeasure known.
“If you say you’ll ‘be back for dinner’, I will stab you in the balls, husband of mine. I’m not your trophy wife sitting at the dining room table, waiting for you to come home. Fuck that shit.” I pause, my eyes meeting Enzo’s gaze as he tries in vain to hold back his laughter. Before I can tell him to save himself, he’s running out the front door and shutting it behind him for good measure.
“Hmmm.” I turn, oh so slowly, until I’m face to face with my wife. She’s nothing less than stunning when she’s riled up and ready to fight for our marriage. It makes my dick hard as fucking steel. “That’s three, Tesoro.” I raise a brow, urging her to challenge me. I could probably get in a quickie before I meet with the Greeks.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Marco.” So many things sound wrong about that expression.
“I’ll have to add one more with a side of taking the Lord’s name in vain.” I take a step closer to her until we’re nose to nose. Her chest is rising and falling, her indignation at my nonchalance making me harder by the second.
“NotmyLord.” Ah, my little pagan is playing dirty.
“It’s still disrespectful.” My palm is out and my fingers are around her throat faster than she can anticipate it, giving me the advantage. Without losing eye contact, I push her into the wall and lick a slow, tortuous path across her parted lips before whispering in her mouth. “If you needed a rough fuck before I left, all you had to do was ask.” She knows exactly what I’m doing, but she loves every fucking move I make. It’s our game, it keeps us on our toes.
River pushes her hips into mine, no doubt feeling her effect on me. Hell, her mere presence makes me hard. Gripping the hem of her dress, I lift it up and push her panties aside, one finger thrusting inside her soaked pussy.