His Wife: A Dark Mafia Romance (Dark Sovereign Book 2)

My eyes open, and I’m drenched, the torn shirt clinging to my sweaty skin. I glance over my shoulder to find Alexius sleeping behind me, clutching me tight. His warm breath weaves through my hair and caresses the back of my neck, his presence wrapped around me like a shield, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this safe before.

Taking a deep breath, I let his familiar scent fill my lungs and soothe my bones. I allow it to infect my reality so I can linger longer in this dream. A dream where it’s just us. No deal or arrangement. No Dark Sovereign. Just us.

I run my hand down his arm that’s snaked around my middle, my fingertips brushing along solid muscle, sending an electric current through my chest that inflames and licks the back of my neck. I close my eyes and savor the moment, the silence, and I relive every second of last night.

Waking up in the middle of the night with his fingers between my legs and his stiff cock in his hand would be disturbing to some. But not to me. It instantly drove me wild, like a magnetic pulse passing between us, charging my body and leaving me aching for release. The attraction, chemistry, and tension are always there, burning, throbbing, yearning. I want him all the time. Every time. If only we could lock ourselves in this room forever and only exist within each other.

But that’s wishful thinking on the largest scale. Whatever this is between us has so many variables it’s hard to figure out if this is real or just a distraction while we wait for our time to run out. And it will run out. Time is our enemy, and it won’t stop. It will never stop. My heart is a throbbing mess just thinking about the day I walk out of here with my insides torn to pieces because I know I’ll never feel his touch again. Never experience the high of being with him. Why did I let it go this far? Why did I allow myself to fall so deep when I knew the terms of our bargain? Oh, that’s right. I didn’t let it go that far. I didn’t allow anything. It just. Fucking. Happened. Now, there’s no stopping it. I’m addicted. An addict who will keep on being my own worst enemy for as long as I’m able to get my fix of him. It’s too late to save myself from heartbreak and a river of tears I know will soon come.

It’s the first time he spent the night in my room, our naked bodies entwined together, holding each other. We fell asleep soon after, sated and exhausted. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need words, not while our bodies communicated so effortlessly in a rhythm that is uniquely ours.

I look up at the bedside clock. Usually, Alexius would be in his study or out on business at this time of the morning. And it fills my heart with something warm and fuzzy, affection fluttering in my belly, that he’s still here…with me. But it scares me too. I’m scared of the feelings dwelling beneath all the lust and desire that so easily consume us. I’m afraid of how my heart beats faster when I’m with him, how my pulse races, my blood drowning in adrenaline when he makes his wicked intentions known. I’m terrified of breaking the moment he lets me go.

His hold around my waist tightens, and he nuzzles into my nape, inhaling deeply. “I love smelling you when I wake up.”

My heart stammers. “We overslept.”

“Does waking up early and thinking the world can go fuck itself before I let you out of my arms count as overslept?”

I stop breathing, his voice, his words turning my insides to liquid. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?” He inhales my scent again.

“Say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“I like it too much.” My heart hurts like it’s suddenly too big for my chest. “I might expect you to say things like that to me every day.”

“And that would be bad?”

“Very. For me, at least.”

Alexius places his hand on my hip and guides me to my back. His black strands are messy, and his irises have swallowed the brilliance of every sapphire in the world—his chiseled jaw capable of cutting glass. “What if I want to say it to you every day?”

I grab the sheet and pull it over my mouth. “Then I’m screwed.”

“What are you doing?” He frowns, lifting himself slightly.

“Morning breath.”

“Morning breath, my ass.” He grips the sheet and pulls it away from my face, and I reach to grab it again.

“Exactly. Morning breath smells like ass.”

He snickers and rolls on his back. “Mine doesn’t.”

“You might be one wealthy son of a bitch with a huge gold family heirloom around your finger, Mr. Del Rossa, but your morning breath smells just like the rest of ours.”

He tosses a pillow at me as I get up, and I chuckle, catching it and throwing it back at him. “I need to freshen up.”

After brushing my teeth, pinching my cheeks to get some blood running to the surface and, roughing my fingers through my hair, I lean against the bathroom’s doorframe, crossing my arms.

Alexius is propped up against the headboard, the sheet low around his waist, teasing me with the toned ridges of his defined abs, and I get a glimpse of the prominent V I’ve traced with my tongue so many times. Staring at his DS ring, he absentmindedly twirls it around his finger, seemingly deep in thought.

“Are you thinking about the party tonight?” I ask, strolling back to bed.

“Among other things.”

“Mira’s done a great job organizing everything.”

He looks up and grabs my waist, pulling me down on the bed next to him. “So have you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you helping Mira plan this party.” He touches my chin with a gentle finger. “Thank you for that.”

“Don’t thank me. I want to help.” I shrug. “The days drag in this place when I’m alone with nothing to do.”

A sly grin tugs at the ends of his full lips. “You can always find something to do.” He inches closer, his gaze fixed on my lips. “I can show you.”

My whole body shivers, nervous anticipation rushing through me as he leans in. I’m frozen, breathless, his lips so close to mine. The way my insides ignite and quiver, one would think I’m two seconds away from experiencing my first kiss.

I squeeze my thighs together with desire, too scared to breathe because I don’t want to wreck this perfect moment.

His warm breath caresses my skin, his scent chaining me down further. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until I exhale softly as he moves closer, his lips grazing mine, the tip of his tongue flicking out. Blue eyes keep my gaze captive as he closes the gap between us. They’re watching me burn and yearn for him, desire seeping from my pores.

I’m silent. Still. Meanwhile, on the inside, I’m raging, screaming at him to kiss me. And when he does, I’m nothing but liquid desire, his lips soft, smooth, and supple, and his kiss gentle. The fire in my belly, the heat between my legs, the tingle of desire, it’s all there in one giant sphere of excitement that’s lodged in my throat, making it impossible to breathe right. The way he grips my waist, his body melding to mine as he pulls me closer—I’m enthralled and possessed, time wholly forgotten.

It’s when he winds another arm around my waist, wanting to pull me on top of him, that I press my hands against his hard chest. “We can’t.”

“Like fuck we can’t.” He grabs my wrist and places my hand on his naked, hard cock, wrapping his fingers around mine so I close my palm around his length.

A desire-choked moan slips from my mouth, and I exhale with a waft of air. “I really can’t. Mira is—”

“I really don’t give a fuck.” His hand slithers up my thigh, fingers sliding through my pussy. “My dick is hard, and your cunt is wet. Let’s not waste it.”

“Alexius,” I groan. “I have to—”

“Spread your legs. That’s what you have to do.” He pushes a finger into me, his thumb brushing against my clit, and I inhale sharply. It’s torture, like I’m in my own corner of Hell as I reluctantly pull away. “I promised Mira I’d be up early to help her, and I’m already late.”

“Mira is more than capable of doing this shit on her own.”

“I know.” I shoot up to my feet, pushing my curls out of my flustered face. “But I’m trying to show everyone—”

“Show everyone what?” he demands.

I take a deep breath. “That I’m more than just the woman my husband picked up off the streets to meet his father’s demands. I want to prove to them and myself that I’m not just a pound of flesh stuck in a room or aimlessly wandering around for whenever my husband decides it’s time for me to get some attention again.”

My words come out with a bite of resentment, and I didn’t mean for it to. I’m aware he picked up on it just by the scowl on his face as he looks at me. “It’s not like that,” he murmurs.

“That’s what it’s starting to feel like to me.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Am I? Mira is the only person who gives me more than the polite ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ around here. I’m a stranger in this house, Alexius. A guest whose stay is limited.”

Alexius rubs the back of his neck. “You’re more than that.”

“I don’t think so. If I had to analyze every little thing in my life right now, I’d say I’m nothing more than a woman who willingly spreads her legs for you. Your stray. And to others, I’m Alexius’s wife, the woman he was forced to marry.”

Alexius narrows his eyes, searching the room. “Where the fuck did this just come from? I swear you were right here sitting next to me, kissing me, and now you’re over there going on about shit I’m not even sure I understand.”

Talk about a one-eighty. “I didn’t mean to go there.” I place my palm on my forehead. “Maybe I’m just a little confused about what the hell is happening between us and you being hot and cold all the time.”

“Hot and cold,” he scoffs.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“That you’re distracted lately. You’re here, but you’re not. It’s hard not to get mindfucked by everything.”

The sheet swooshes as he tears out of bed, naked with his cock hard and bobbing as he steps up to me, claiming my cheeks between his palms. “You should work on not getting so easily mindfucked, stray. I need you at the top of your game whenever I choose to fuck you, wherever I choose to fuck you.”

“See. A booty call,” I huff.

“Not a booty call. It’s just the way it is. We’re unraveling, remember?” He kisses me once more, leaning his strength into it. “I’m going to call Vicky and let her know you’ll be needing a dress for tonight.” He leans back, gaze dragging up and down my body. “Something silver. Shiny.”

Resting a hand on my waist, I pop my hip to the side and raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you in charge of what I wear now?”

Lacing his fingers around the back of my neck, he pulls me in and presses his lips on my forehead. “Don’t kid yourself, baby girl. I’m in charge of everything when it comes to you.”

ALEXIUS

Mira comes sprinting down the stairs, and I can already see us picking her bones off the foyer floor from falling over those heels she’s wearing. “They’re here.”

“Who?” Nicoli frowns.

“Your mom and dad. They’re back from their trip.”

“Isn’t that sort of the idea? You know, Dad convincing her to pack up all his medical equipment, a private nurse, and for them to go away for a few days so you can put this extravagant, over-the-top shindig together?” Nicoli glances at me, then back at Mira, who is in the middle of stabbing him with her eyeballs.

“Thank you, Mr. Del Rossa, for pointing that out. Now, if you could please take your sarcasm and shove it up your ass, I’ll take it as a personal favor.”

“Just stating the obvious.”

I smirk at them, knowing their banter is owed to something more profound, stronger, something Nicoli is hellbent on ignoring, acting like it doesn’t exist.

Straightening my tuxedo sleeves, I feel her presence stroke the skin of my neck, igniting a fire in my stomach. But it’s when I turn to face her that she truly takes my breath away. In a silver sequin-encrusted evening dress, my wife is a fucking vision. I can’t take my eyes off her as I move toward the end of the stairs, looking up at her, my heart squeezing with pride. This woman who once wore a coffee-stained waitress uniform with holes in her shoes now shines like a thousand diamonds put together–a kaleidoscope of beauty, elegance, confidence…and mine.

Our gazes meet, her red lips curved in a gorgeous smile, her raven hair pulled to the side and over her right shoulder. As I watch her walk down the stairs, my heart beats to a different rhythm, a cadence created by the sway of her hips. I’m lost. Lost in the universe with no idea where I’m supposed to be—like a dying star endlessly wandering, yet drawn to the sun. To her. My wife.

The sparkling fabric hugs her every curve and flows like water down her hips, the deep V neckline blessing me with a glimpse of the swell of her breasts. She’s beautiful—her brown eyes with rays of honey are a hypnotizing mix of Heaven and Hell, and I don’t care if looking into them means the end of me. All I care about is her. About how I feel when I look at her. Kiss her. Touch her.

I hold out my hand, and she places her palm in mine. “You look—” I struggle to find the right words. “You are…exquisite.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks flush with a subtle glow. “You clean up nicely, too.” The sweet smile on her beautiful face is deadly to my self-control, her perfume subtle yet strong enough to envelop my every bone.

I bite my lip and lean into her ear, whispering, “You look stunning in this dress, and I can’t wait to tear it off you.”

“Alexius.” This time her cheeks turn bright pink, and I slip an arm around her waist, but not before I palm her ass, feeling the swell in my palm and am reminded of what she looks like on all fours, pushing her hips out to me. Fuck.

“What is going on?” My mom walks through the front door, placing her handbag on the side table. “Why are there so many cars parked in the driveway?” She eyes all of us. “Why are you all dressed up?”

Mira flits to the front, her coral satin dress flowing around her feet. “There’s no time for questions. We need to get you ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“It’s a surprise.” Mira smiles warmly.

My mother glances from me to Nicoli, then at my father being wheeled into the foyer by his nurse. “Vincenzo, what is going on?”

There’s a flash of warmth in his eyes, affection, as he stares at her as if she’s the oxygen he had been breathing his entire life. “Amore mio, as Mira said, it’s a surprise.”

Worry fills the lines on her forehead as she frowns at my father. “You need to get some rest. Let me help you get settled.”

“There’s no need. Nicoli and Alexius are here to take care of me. Go with Mira.”

“Vincenzo—”

“Amore mio, please,” my father pleads with an edge of command, and my mother squares her shoulders, knowing there will be no arguing with Vincenzo Del Rossa tonight.

There’s a hint of a smile on her pink lips as she turns to face us, but I can see it hardly reaches her eyes. “Where do you want me, Mira child?”

Mira claps her hands with excitement. “Come on. We have lots in store tonight. Leandra,” Mira calls, and I notice how my wife’s eyes light up when she realizes Mira has just asked her to go with her and my mother—like she’s a part of it. A part of this family.

I kiss her cheek and squeeze her hip. “I’ll see you at the marquees.”

Leandra nods and follows Mira up the stairs. For those few seconds, I keep my eyes on her, not giving a fuck if the world comes to an end during the time I admire her, allowing myself to be swept away by the warmth that fills my chest and thaws my heart.

Nicoli slaps a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “Make sure your fly is closed, man.”

“What? Why?” I look down.

“Your dick is about to dart up these stairs. Keep that thing leashed.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“She is a beautiful woman, Alexius.” Both Nicoli and I turn to face my father. I’m taken aback by how weak and frail he looks. They’ve only been gone a few days, and he seems to have aged ten years.

“Yes, she is.”

“I bet she’d be a great mother to your children someday.”

“Dad,” I groan.

“What? Surely you would like to have an heir? A son to carry your legacy?”

I roll my eyes. “Not tonight, Dad.”

“Micah,” he says absentmindedly. “I’ve always wanted a son with the name Micah.”

“Well, Dad,” Nicoli chimes in with a drawl of sarcasm, “you literally had four sons, four chances to name one of us Micah, but thank God you didn’t because that name is terrible.”

“And Nicoli is any better?” I challenge.

“Fuck, yeah, it is.”

“Micah would make a fine name for an heir,” my dad continues, his eyes heavy and sad, a reflection of the life that’s slowly draining out of him.

“What do you know, Alexius.” Nicoli grins at me. “You were almost a Micah. I don’t know which name is worse, and if you should be thankful or not.”

“Fuck you.”

Nicoli’s rumbling laugh fills the foyer, but it’s the look in my dad’s eyes that keeps my attention—their soft gleam, as if, for a moment, he’s not here but somewhere else entirely.

“Dad, you okay?”

He shakes his head lightly as if stealing himself from a dream or memory, then looks at me with a soft gleam in his eyes. “Yes…yes, I’m fine. Just…treat your wife well, Alexius. There will come a time when you need her more than anything. A time when you realize your life courses through her veins.”

How do I respond to that when I’m convinced that time will come sooner rather than later?

“How are you feeling?” I ask, giving the nurse a silent nod to move to the side, and I slip behind his wheelchair.

“It was a good few days with your mother. We needed that.”

“No, I mean, how are you feeling?”

Nicoli walks beside us.

“Oh, you mean whether I feel any less than death after our mini getaway? No. No, I don’t.”

Nicoli and I look at each other, our mutual worry evident.

“Are you sure you’re up for this party?” Nicoli asks, and my father holds up his hand to bring us to a stop. Without glancing at us, he sits straight in the wheelchair.

“Thirty-five years. I’ve been married to your mother for thirty-five years. Some people don’t even live that long. So, if you’re asking whether I’m up to celebrating that with your mother, I’d say it’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.” He sucks in a breath as if a thought had torn through his chest. “This will be the last celebration I spend with her, and I intend to make the most of it.”

His exhaustion whirls through the air like a blight, and with the chandelier’s light glowing down on him, he appears like a war-torn soldier—a man who has fought his last war and is now an ailing man who wants nothing more than to love his wife during the last few moments of his life.

An intense sadness burns my eyes, and I look down at the black blanket covering his legs. Memories of him standing in this exact same spot—healthy and regal—tug at the heartstrings of the little boy I once was. A boy who, no matter the differences we had, looked up to his father. A boy whose chest would swell with pride every time Vincenzo Del Rossa introduced him as his son. I am still that boy. I am still that boy who would do anything to make his father proud.

“Now, how about you help me look as dapper as the two of you.”

My father smirks, and Nicoli pulls his fingers through his hair. “Although Alexius and I are miracle workers, we do not possess the power of God.”

I cock a brow. “Speak for yourself.”