Matteo took over from Luca and Dante released me. I declined a dance from an Outfit soldier with a quick excuse, not wanting to test Luca’s patience and needing something to drink and a break from the possessive dominance surrounding me, but then Val laughed loudly at something Matteo had said. They were dancing closer than was appropriate. Luca narrowed his eyes at his brother, but he wasn’t the one I was worried about. Dante had a look in his eyes I knew from Luca.

Ignoring my thirst, I hurried to the dance floor and stopped beside Matteo and Val. “Why don’t you dance with me now, Matteo?”

Val’s eyes moved from me to her husband and realization filled her face. She stepped back from Matteo, who sent her a grin before he gripped my hand and jerked me against him.

I gasped from the impact against his muscled chest. My indignant look only made him grin wider, and he pressed his palm without hesitation against my back. He and Gianna would kill each other, that was a given.

For Matteo everything was a game—he thrived on provocation and chaos. With anyone but him I would have worried about Luca’s reaction but since this was Matteo, I relaxed in his tight embrace and let him twirl us around the dance floor.

Gianna stood off to the side, a scowl on her face when Matteo winked at her in passing. I dug my nails into his shoulder, bringing his attention back to me. “Don’t hurt her.” It came out sharper than intended, almost an order.

Matteo’s face became guarded. “Or what?”

I squeezed his hand and softened my tone. “Or you will never win her over. She might act all strong, but she has grown up as sheltered as me. Please treat her with kindness.” This was Luca’s brother and I was well aware that kindness wasn’t his forte, but if Luca could be kind to me then I had to hope Matteo could do the same with Gianna.

“I have no intention of hurting Gianna unless she’s into that kind of kinky shit.”

I rolled my eyes at him but when he looked at Gianna again, I could tell that his gaze held a flicker of warmth. Hers didn’t. She looked like she would rather chop her hands off than marry him. It worried me.

LUCA

I rolled over and reached for Aria but touched an empty bedsheet. My eyes flew open and I sat up, looking toward the clock on the nightstand. It was only six thirty in the morning on a Sunday and we’d returned late from Chicago. Where was she? Why wasn’t she still asleep?

That I hadn’t even noticed her getting out of bed showed how deep my sleep was beside her. Fuck.

I swung my legs out of bed, staggered to my feet and reached for my Beretta and stuffed it into my sweatpants. When I stepped onto the first floor landing, the sound of Aria’s humming reached my ears. I went down the stairs and found Aria in our open kitchen, barefoot and dressed in her satin nightgown. The counters and the floor were covered with white powder and so was Aria, her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

It smelled distinctly burned.

“What’s going on?”

Aria cried out and whirled around with a hand over her heart, her eyes wide. The tip of her nose and cheekbones were covered in white too, and my lips turned up at the sight.

A smile broke on her face. “I baked a cake for you.” She moved toward me. “Happy birthday, my love.”

Fuck, it was my birthday. I’d forgotten. I didn’t really celebrate that day. Aria stood on her tiptoes and I bent down, molding our lips together. I tasted flour on her lips—so that was the white powder. I pulled back, letting my eyes assess the mess. “I don’t want to sound cruel, but past experiences proved that you being in the kitchen isn’t a good idea.”

She pursed her lips. “I practiced with Marianna when you weren’t around.”

“You practiced?”

“I wanted your birthday cake to be perfect,” she said softly. I stared then raised my fingertips and brushed the flour off her cheeks. The spot on her nose would have to stay. She looked too fucking gorgeous for words. She stepped back, took mittens and opened the oven. The cake that she pulled out didn’t look half bad, even though it was on the dark side.

“It’s a chocolate cake with cream-cheese filling,” she said as she set it down on the counter. She grabbed a knife and cut off two pieces, put them on a plate before she set them down in front of me. She pressed up beside me. “I hope you like it.”

I grabbed the fork and speared a piece of the cake then brought it to my mouth, prepared for the worst, but the cake was actually delicious, warm and chocolaty. I didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but I enjoyed this because Aria had made it for me.

“And?” she asked, her eyes wide and worried.

“Delicious.”

Her answering smile actually made my fucking heart skip a beat.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Three hours?”

I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t know cake takes that long.”

She blushed. “Well, it doesn’t but I got up early in case something didn’t go to plan, and I burnt the first two cakes—they’re in the trash.”

I chuckled then took another bite. My eyes trailed down her delicate throat to the soft swell of her breasts.

Aria touched my chest then slowly ran her hands down to my stomach, and I set the fork back down on my plate. My skin tightened under her touch, my cock springing to life. Aria’s eyes met mine as she reached for the Beretta in my waistband and pulled it out. With anybody else, my body would have gone into high alert, but with her I didn’t even feel a hint of unease. She regarded my gun for a moment before she put it down on the counter. I couldn’t look away from her face. She slid her hands into my waistband and slowly dragged my sweatpants down over my hips. I hissed when she grazed my cock. She cast her eyes up, and fuck, that look in her eyes, I could feel it right in my dick.

And then she got down on her knees, and I almost came right then. She held my gaze despite the blush spreading on her cheeks as she leaned forward, parting those perfect pink lips and taking my tip into her hot mouth. I had to stop myself from thrusting forward, but I loosened her bun and tangled my hands in her hair as she worked my cock deeper into her mouth. Fuck, my balls swelled seeing it.

She smiled around my cock and I groaned, my fingers tightening against her skull. Slowly she moved back and her fingers curled around me, and then she fucking licked from the base all the way to the top before she swirled that pink tongue around my tip. I jerked, moaning. “Fuck, Aria, you’re killing me.”

She hummed, looking fucking proud. That woman. Only mine.

I had to pull the reins a few times like a randy teenager as her mouth worked my cock, but when Aria cupped my balls while her other hand worked my shaft and my tip hit the back of her throat, I exploded. I gripped the counter as pleasure shot through me and I erupted in her mouth. She had trouble swallowing around me, so I pulled back a bit, my dick twitching. I watched through lidded eyes as she drew back, releasing me, and wiped her mouth. This was the moment she was still the most self-conscious about. I bent down and grabbed her under the armpits and hoisted her up onto the counter before I claimed her mouth for a kiss, plunging my tongue inside, tasting myself on her, and feeling fucking possessive because of it.

Gripping her thighs, I lifted her up and her legs circled my waist. If it weren’t for all the flour, I would have fucked her right there on the counters. Instead I turned with her clinging to my torso and walked toward the stairs. Her eyes never left mine as I carried her up the stairs, and with her pussy pressed against my stomach, my cock was recovering quickly. Fuck, I could feel how wet she was. Wet from sucking my cock.