Turning Point||Book 2

41: Romano.

That was the truth of it. I'd been mulling over the notion of that tattoo since our journey from the hospital to the villa; the necessity of something tangible to tether me to the woman who'd been chipping away at the hardened facade I wore since our paths first crossed. She warranted a place on my skin, on my person, particularly after witnessing the profound effect her brush with death had evoked in me.

I wanted a red butterfly over my heart because it encapsulated everything she represented in a nutshell. Red? It was her essence. From the strands of her hair to the damnation of her wardrobe, to the red fervor she ignited in me whenever she drew near. A butterfly because that's precisely what she was; delicate, innocent yet captivatingly beautiful.

And why over my heart, you might wonder? Because that's where her presence resided, nestled deep within the confines of my being, fluttering with each beat, constantly reminding me of the profound impact she had made on my hardened soul.

I wasn't finished with her for the night, not by a long shot. The rude interruption from Ottavio was equal parts annoying and useful. He'd called to fill me in on Angelo's collaboration with Salvatore.

It seemed they were orchestrating a drug shipment into Italy, with Salvatore entrusting my uncle to oversee the arrival, distribution, and sales at the club, while only caring about the profits. If Santo messed up, Salvatore would chain him to hell's gate. Since we had tapped into my uncle's phone and were privy to all his dealings, I had the upper hand in handling him without confronting him directly. But that could wait until the shipment arrived in two days.

In the meantime, I had plenty of time to toy with Xenia. The deadline for her own elimination was in four days. And since I was living in the moment, driven by recklessness rather than rationality, I scooped her up and led her to hallway.

I told myself I'd figure it out when the time came.

Orlando and Umfredo approached from somewhere, meeting us near the stairs. I dropped Xenia to stand. Swiftly, my eyes flicked to her figure, ensuring she was adequately covered in the robe. She was.

Out of respect, neither of the men spared a glance at her as they greeted me.

"Max and Ponzio are at the club," Umfredo reported. "Keeping an eye on your cousins."

"Keep me updated if anything arises."

"Yes, boss."

With that, they both vanished. With a mischievous smile on her face, Xenia paused on the first stair, waiting until Orlando and Umfredo had disappeared into their rooms before leaning in to kiss me. Her lips felt far more sinful to taste than all those months ago.

"What's the deal with your uncle?" she asked, breaking away from my lips.

She had expressed a desire to stay out of the family's affairs, and I had promised to keep her safe from it, but where had that truly left us? Once again, I found myself acting recklessly, without thought.

After explaining who Salvatore was, his tangled connections with my uncle and uncle's strained relationship with me, which Xenia struggled to fully comprehend, I parted her thighs and lifted her onto my body, her hands finding support at the back of my neck.

We barely made it to my room—kissing, sucking her nipples, grabbing her ass, and spanking it. She was giggling, brimming with excitement and energy. I liked it. Though, she had gained a few pounds, I could feel it in her muscles, the way they strained, and it only made me crazier about her body. I preferred full-figured women, fleshy but very petite, and Xenia fit that description perfectly.

With a swift kick, I shut the door behind us, leading her inside and dropping her onto my bed, the soft surface bouncing her up and down for a moment.

"What's your wildest fantasy?" I asked her, reaching for the curtains and drawing them closed, enveloping us in a more intimate atmosphere.