Chapter 13 " slap"
Romeo Estate – 2:17 p.m.
The afternoon sun poured through the silk curtains like molten gold, warming the tangled sheets where Elena and Lucas lay, still joined, still one. Their bodies were slick with sweat and sex, the air thick with lavender, musk, and the faint salt of her dried tears. Lucas’s cock, softened but still nestled deep inside her, pulsed faintly with every slow breath, her pussy fluttering around him in lazy aftershocks. Her head rested on his chest, one leg thrown over his hip, fingers tracing the inked lines of his scars.
Elena stirred first, her eyes fluttering open, heavy with sleep but lighter than they’d been in years.
The weight of her confession, of Tommaso’s shadow, still lingered, but Lucas’s arms his kept it at bay. She shifted, her pussy clenching around him, and he groaned low in his throat, eyes cracking open, storm-gray and sated.
“Still want to sleep, baby?” Lucas asked, voice husky, rough from hours of growling her name. His hand slid up her spine, tangling in her hair, thumb stroking the nape of her neck.
“No,” Elena murmured, a shy smile curling her lips, her voice soft but steady.
“I’m hungry.”
He grinned, slow and wicked, leaning down to kiss her forehead, lingering there, breathing her in.
“Okay, let’s fill your little tummy.”
Their lips met slow, deep, devoted. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her all over again. She moaned into him, fingers curling into his hair, her hips rocking instinctively, grinding his cock deeper. The kiss was fire and home, a promise that no monster could touch her here.
Lucas broke the kiss, chuckling as she whined, and began to ease out of her.
“Ahh ” Elena winced, a sharp little gasp escaping as his cock dragged against her oversensitive walls, sore from their morning’s fervor.
He smiled, soft and reverent, dipping his head to kiss her breast, tongue flicking over her bud, soothing the sting with a slow, deliberate swirl.
“Let’s go,” he murmured against her skin, voice warm with love.
In one fluid motion, he scooped her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, her pussy still dripping with their mingled release. She laughed, bright and free, arms looping around his neck as he carried her naked through the bedroom, past the scattered clothes and the gun on the nightstand, into the sunlit hall.
“Lucas!” she giggled, burying her face in his throat, cheeks pink. “We’re naked!”
" It not like I haven't seen..and I fuck you everyday". remember Lucas speok.
" Shameless" Elana spoke.
Lucas carried Elena through the sun-drenched dining room, her laughter echoing off the marble as she clung to his neck, naked and glowing. The staff had set the table with warm croissants, strawberries, and coffee, but food could wait.
He veered left, striding into the master bathroom a cathedral of white marble, gold fixtures, and a skylight spilling afternoon light like liquid honey.
He set her on the vanity, her bare ass against the cool stone, legs dangling.
“Time to get fresh, butterfly,” he murmured, kissing her nose, her lips, her jaw.
Elena giggled, cheeks pink, pushing at his chest.
He chuckled, low and wicked, stepping back to let her slide off. His cock slipped free, glistening with their release, and she winced, thighs trembling from the morning’s intensity. He steadied her with a hand on her waist, eyes soft with concern.
“Sore?”
“Worth it,” she whispered, shy but bold, tiptoeing to kiss him.
The shower was a glass palace, big enough for a army. Lucas turned the knobs, and hot water cascaded like rain, steam curling around them. He pulled her under the spray, her back to his chest, his hands lethal but gentle working lavender soap into her skin.
He washed her hair, fingers massaging her scalp until she moaned, then rinsed her slow, kissing every inch of skin the water touched: her shoulders, her spine, the curve of her ass.
She turned, taking the soap from him, her hands roaming his chest, tracing scars and ink, lathering his abs, his thighs, teasingly close to his cock but never quite touching.
“My turn,” she murmured, eyes sparkling with mischief.
He groaned, letting her have her fun, until she dropped to her knees, water streaming over her, and kissed the tip of his cock, soft and reverent.
“Butterfly ” he growled, but she just smiled, standing before he lost control.
They rinsed off, laughing, stealing kisses under the spray. Lucas wrapped her in a towel the size of a blanket, drying her with the same devotion he’d shown in bed. He dried himself quickly, muscles flexing under her gaze, then carried her back to the bedroom.
Closet – 3:05 p.m.
The walk-in closet was a palace of silk and leather. Lucas pulled on black jeans, no boxers, and a fitted white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing inked forearms.
Elena stood before the mirror, towel dropping, naked and unashamed. She chose a soft white sundress, no bra, panties optional his rule. The fabric hugged her curves, the hem brushing mid-thigh, her hair loose and damp, curling at the ends.
Lucas stepped behind her, arms looping around her waist, chin on her shoulder.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, kissing her neck.
“Ready to eat?”
She leaned back, smiling at their reflection king and queen, scarred and whole.
“Starving.”
He scooped her up again, carrying her to the dining room, her legs around his waist, dress riding up.
The table awaited, but his eyes promised more than food.
Romeo Estate – 3:27 p.m.
The dining room glowed under the afternoon sun, golden light pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the cliffs and crashing sea. Crystal chandeliers caught the light, scattering prisms across the mahogany table set with delicate porcelain, silver cutlery, and a tiered stand of warm, buttery croissants still steaming from the oven.
A bowl of strawberries plump, ruby-red, glistening with dew sat beside a silver coffee pot exhaling curls of rich, dark roast. The air was thick with the scent of yeast, berries, and the faint musk of Lucas and Elena’s earlier passion.
Elena nestled in Lucas’s lap on the velvet-cushioned bench, her bare thighs draped over his, the hem of her white sundress riding high. No bra, no panties his rules, and she wore them like a crown. His arm was a steel band around her waist, hand splayed possessively over her hip, thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin.
She looked like a goddess hair loose and damp, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with love.
“Open, baby,” Lucas murmured, voice low and rough, spearing a strawberry with a silver fork and holding it to her red lips.
She parted them, biting down, juice bursting, a scarlet drop sliding down her chin like blood. He caught it with his thumb, slow and deliberate, then sucked it clean, eyes locked on hers, storm-gray and starving.
“Good girl,” he growled, the words vibrating against her skin.
Elena giggled, stealing a flake of croissant from his fingers, licking melted butter from his thumb with a teasing flick of her tongue. Her laughter was a melody, bright and free, chasing away the shadows of her confession.
The servants moved like ghosts silent, efficient refilling coffee, clearing plates, their eyes averted from the intimate display.
Lucas’s phone buzzed on the table, screen flashing. He glanced at it, jaw tightening, a muscle ticking like a bomb.
“Butterfly,” he said, kissing her temple, lips lingering in her hair, breathing her in lavender, sex, home.
“I’m going for some work. Viktor’s here. I’ll be back soon. Urgent.”
Her smile faltered, lips parting in a soft, half-hearted pout.
“Hmm.”
They finished eating, playful now she fed him a strawberry, letting him bite it from her fingers, then licked the juice from his lips. He fed her coffee, tilting the cup to her mouth, watching her throat work as she swallowed. Every touch was a vow, every glance a claim.
When the plates were empty, he scooped her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, dress riding up to reveal the curve of her ass. She laughed, arms looping around his neck, as he carried her back upstairs, her body molded to his, heartbeat to heartbeat.
Master Bedroom – 3:42 p.m.
He laid her on the bed, the silk sheets cool against her skin.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to her forehead, her eyelids, her lips.
He disappeared into the walk-in closet, emerging minutes later in a charcoal office suit tailored to perfection, crisp white shirt, cufflinks glinting like bullets under the chandelier’s light. His hair was swept back, stubble shadowing his jaw, scar slicing through his eyebrow like a badge of war. He was lethal, a king ready to hunt.
He knelt beside the bed, one hand cupping her cheek, thumb stroking her lower lip.
“I’ll be back,” he vowed, kissing her slow, devoted, pouring himself into it love, protection, rage.
One last hug, arms crushing, her face buried in his neck, then he was gone, the door clicking shut with finality.
Outside – 3:45 p.m.
Lucas paused at the threshold, the gravel crunching under his boots. Viktor stood by the Maybach, shotgun slung over his shoulder, face carved from granite.
“Take care of her,” Lucas said, voice winter, eyes black with purpose. “Until I return.”
“Always, boss,” Viktor replied, nodding once.
Lucas slid into the SUV, tires spitting gravel as it roared down the drive.
Destination: Dungeon, sub-level of the Romeo Estate.
Prisoner: Russo Kane.
The man who’d beaten Elena for twenty years broken bones, burned skin, locked her in cellars with rats. Lucas had kept him alive, chained in the dark, for this moment.
Somewhere in the corner of the Romeo Estate 3:47 p.m.
A shadow crouched behind the east wing’s ivy-covered wall, burner phone pressed to their ear.
“Mam… Boss has gone. You can come.”
A voice, cold and venomous, slithered through the line
“Hmmm. Make my path clear. I’ll teach that bitch a lesson today.”
Elena’s Bedroom – 3:52 p.m.
Sleep wouldn’t come.
Her legs ached, thighs sore from Lucas’s love, a sweet reminder of his claim. She slid from the bed, wincing as her feet hit the cool marble, and padded to the closet. She changed into a loose white t-shirt, the hem brushing mid-thigh; gray sweatpants, rolled at the waist. She settled at the mahogany desk by the window, textbooks open, Wuthering Heights dog-eared, highlighter clenched between her teeth. She tried to study, but her mind wandered to Lucas, to safety, to him.
Downstairs – 4:03 p.m.
A sleek silver Bentley roared up the drive, chrome gleaming under the sun. The door swung open, and out stepped Valentina Romeo ,Lucas’s mother.
Fifty-five, stunning, ice-blonde hair pinned in a severe chignon, blood-red lipstick sharp as a blade, tailored black suit hugging her lithe frame. Diamond earrings glinted like weapons. Her heels black Louboutins, red soles flashing stabbed the gravel as she stormed toward the entrance.
Lucas had banned her from Elena.
No invitation to their wedding.
No contact.
Ever.
He’d cut his parents out like cancer, and Valentina had never forgiven the girl who’d stolen her son.
She swept inside, the double doors slamming behind her, her perfume oud and rose choking the air.
“Where is my daughter-in-law?” she demanded, voice cracking like a whip, eyes scanning the foyer’s marble and gold.
“I want to meet her.”
A young servant, barely twenty, stammered, hands trembling: “Mam… upstairs ”
“CALL HER!” Valentina shouted, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling, sharp enough to shatter glass.
The servant bolted up the stairs, heart pounding.
Viktor, stationed at the foyer’s grand arch, blocked Valentina’s path, his massive frame a wall of muscle and menace, shotgun slung over his shoulder.
“Let me ask the boss,” he said, voice flat, eyes cold.
The servant returned, pale as death,
“She said Boss sent her.”
Viktor’s gut twisted, a warning bell clanging.
“Okay.”
He knocked on Elena’s bedroom door, knuckles sharp against the oak.
“Boss’s mother wants to meet you.”
Elena, oblivious ,Lucas had never spoken of his family, and she’d never asked,smoothed her t-shirt, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and grabbed her highlighter.
“Okay,” she said, voice soft but curious.
She padded downstairs, bare feet silent on the marble, Viktor already dialing Lucas.
“Boss, your mother’s here. Says you sent her.”
Lucas’s roar shattered the line, raw and murderous,
“NO. Where’s Elena? Don’t let her near”
“Mam’s already down ”
“FUCKING STOP HER!”
Viktor sprinted, boots thundering, but the staircase was too long, the foyer too vast.
He was too late.
Grand Foyer – 4:07 p.m.
Elena reached the bottom step, her loose t-shirt slipping off one shoulder, highlighter smudged on her cheek, sweatpants rolled at the waist. She looked young, soft, vulnerable.
Valentina turned, her arctic eyes raking over Elena disheveled hair, Lucas’s clothes, bare feet, the faint hickey peeking above the collar. Her blood-red lips curled in disgust, her diamond earrings flashing like daggers.
She stormed forward, heels stabbing the marble, her perfume a suffocating cloud.
Elena froze, heart lurching, a primal fear clawing at her chest.
SLAP.!!!!!!!!!
Valentina’s hand cracked across Elena’s cheek, the sound sharp as a gunshot, echoing off the gilded walls.
Elena’s head snapped sideways, a red handprint blooming instantly on her pale skin, tears springing to her eyes, stinging as they fell.
“You bloody slut!” Valentina shrieked, voice venom, dripping with twenty years of resentment. “How dare you? What magic did you do on my son? Because of you, I lost him! He doesn’t come to us, doesn’t speak, doesn’t exist all because of a whore in his clothes!”
Elena stumbled back, hand pressed to her cheek, tears streaming, her body trembling with shock and pain. The foyer spun, the chandelier’s light fracturing into a thousand screaming shards.