Chapter 28 Marked

Chapter 28 Marked

Lorenzo's POV

I woke to the feeling of Marcella's mouth on my chest.

Soft kisses trailing across my skin, her hair falling like silk over my stomach. She was exploring, learning my body the way I'd learned hers last night.

My hand slid into her hair, not pulling, just holding. Letting her know I was awake.

She looked up at me, her eyes dark with sleep and something else. Want.

"Good morning," she murmured against my skin.

"It is now."

She smiled and continued her path downward. When her lips brushed just below my navel, I tightened my grip in her hair.

"Marcella."

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Her hand wrapped around me, and I groaned. "I want to taste you."

Damn. The words alone nearly undid me.

"You don't have to"

"I know." She looked up at me, her expression determined. "But I want to. Last night you gave me everything. Let me give you this."

How could I say no to that?

I released her hair, letting my hand fall to the sheets. "Then take what you want, amore."

She did.

And it was perfect. Clumsy at first, uncertain, but enthusiastic. She learned quickly what made me groan, what made my hips jerk, what made me curse in Italian.

When I was close, I tried to warn her. To give her a chance to pull away.

She didn't.

Afterward, she crawled back up my body and kissed me. I could taste myself on her lips, and it was the most erotic thing I'd ever experienced.

"Proud of yourself?" I asked, rolling us so she was beneath me.

"Yes."

"Good. Because now it's my turn."

I spent the next hour showing her exactly what her mouth had done to me. Made her come twice before I finally slid inside her, slower this time, gentler, making love instead of claiming.

When we were both spent, tangled together in sheets that smelled like sex and us, she traced the serpent tattoo on my arm.

"Tell me about this," she said quietly.

"What do you want to know?"

"Why a serpent?"

"It's the family crest. Goes back generations." I caught her hand, bringing it to my lips. "My grandfather had it. My father. Now me."

"And the cross?"

"Faith and power. The two things that built our empire." I kissed her palm. "The two things that will destroy it if we're not careful."

She was quiet for a moment. Then: "When I first saw it, I thought it was proof. Proof that you killed them."

"I know."

"I'm sorry. For everything I did. For believing"

"Stop." I kissed her to cut off the apology. "You had reason to believe it. The gun was left deliberately. The frame was perfect. Anyone would have thought the same."

"But I should have questioned it. Should have looked deeper."

"You were grieving. Angry. Giovanni used that against you." My jaw clenched at the thought of him. "But he made one mistake."

"What?"

"He underestimated you. Thought you'd be his weapon and nothing more. He didn't consider that you might become mine instead."

She smiled slightly. "Is that what I am? Your weapon?"

"No." I rolled, pinning her beneath me. "You're my partner. My equal. The woman I'm going to build an empire with."

"What kind of empire?"

"The clean kind. Legitimate. The kind our children won't have to be ashamed of."

Her eyes widened. "Children?"

"Eventually." I kissed her throat. "First, we handle Giovanni. Then Cesare. Then we build something new."

"Together."

"Always together."

\---

We finally left the bed when my stomach growled loud enough to make her laugh.

I pulled on pants and a shirt while she borrowed one of my dress shirts, the hem falling to mid-thigh. Seeing her in my clothes did something to me. Made the possessive part of my brain roar with satisfaction.

Mine. She's mine.

We went downstairs to find breakfast waiting on the terrace. Rosa had outdone herself with fresh pastries, fruit, and strong coffee.

"The staff is going to know," Marcella said, blushing slightly as we sat down.

"Good. Let them know you're mine."

"Lorenzo!" She shouted playfully.

"I want everyone to know, Marcella. I want every man in Sicily to see you and know you belong to me." I reached across the table and traced the mark on her throat, a hickey I'd left last night. "I want them to see my marks on you."

She touched her neck self-consciously. "It's that obvious?"

"Yes. And there are more." I smiled. "On your breasts. Your thighs. Your hip."

"You're impossible."

"I'm possessive. There's a difference."

Vito appeared in the doorway, his scarred face carefully blank. But I saw the slight twitch of his mouth. He was amused.

"Don. We have a problem."

My good mood evaporated. "What kind of problem?"

"Elena called. Says it's urgent. Won't talk to anyone but Signora De Luca."

Marcella stood immediately. "Where's the phone?"

"Study."

We followed Vito inside. Marcella picked up the secure line.

"Elena? What's wrong?"

I watched her face change. Go pale. Her hand tightened on the phone.

"Are you sure?" A pause. "Send me everything you have. Yes. Now."

She hung up and looked at me, her expression stricken.

"What is it?"

"Elena traced the leak. The person who told Giovanni we were at the vineyard."

"Who?"

"Salvatore."

My consigliere. The man who'd been with my family for thirty years.

Rage, cold and absolute, flooded through me.

"You're certain?"

"Elena tracked his phone records. He made three calls to Giovanni's burner the day before we left. And there's more." She took a breath. "He's the one who reported your weapons stolen. But he reported them stolen three days after the Vale massacre. Not before."

The implications hit me like a fist.

"He didn't report a theft," I said slowly. "He covered up the fact that he gave them to Cesare."

"Yes."

I walked to the window, staring out at the sea. Trying to control the fury building in my chest.

Salvatore. My father's most trusted advisor. The man who'd stood beside me when I took control of the family. Who'd sworn loyalty.

He'd betrayed me. For how long? Years? Since the beginning?

"Where is he now?" I asked, my voice deadly calm.

"Elena tracked his phone to his apartment in Catania."

"Vito."

"Yes, Don."

"Gather the men. We're paying Salvatore a visit."

"How many men?"

"All of them." I turned from the window. "And bring the tools. I want him to talk before he dies."

Marcella stepped forward. "I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Lorenzo"

"No." I cupped her face, gentle despite the violence churning inside me. "This is going to be ugly. Brutal. I won't have you see that side of me. Not yet."

"I've already killed for you."

"That was different. That was survival. This is revenge. This is me being the monster everyone thinks I am."

"I don't care. I want to be there. I need to see him pay for what he did."

I studied her face. The determination. The cold fury in her eyes.

She wasn't the grieving girl anymore. She was a woman who'd walked through fire and come out steel.

"All right," I said finally. "But you stay behind me. You don't engage. You watch. Understand?"

"Yes."

I kissed her hard. "Get dressed. Something you can move in. We leave in twenty minutes."

\---

Salvatore's apartment was in an upscale building overlooking the harbor. The kind of place that costs more than most of my soldiers made in a year.

Blood money. All of it.

We entered through the parking garage. Twelve men, all armed, all loyal. Vito had swept for security, Salvatore had cameras, but no guards. Arrogant.

I picked the lock on his door myself. Old skill from my days climbing the ranks.

Inside, the apartment was dark. Expensive furniture. Art on the walls. The life of a man who'd profited from betrayal.

Salvatore was in the kitchen, making coffee. He looked up as we entered, and his face went white.

"Lorenzo. I didn't...I wasn't expecting...."

"No, I imagine you weren't." I walked toward him slowly. "Were you expecting Giovanni? Maybe Cesare? Were you planning to run?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I pulled my gun and shot him in the leg.

He screamed and fell, clutching the wound. Blood spread across his expensive floor.

"Try again," I said calmly. "And this time, tell the truth."

Marcella stood near the door, watching. Her face was pale but composed.

"Tie him to a chair," I ordered Vito.

They hauled Salvatore up, ignoring his pleas, and secured him to one of his own dining chairs.

I pulled up another chair and sat facing him.

"You gave Cesare my weapons. You helped him frame me for the Vale massacre. You told Giovanni we were at the vineyard." I leaned forward. "How long have you been working for him?"

"Five years," Salvatore gasped. "Since before your father died."

The admission was a knife to the chest.

"My father trusted you."

"Your father was weak. He let your mother's death go unavenged. Cesare was the strong one. The one who deserved to lead."

"So you helped him kill my father too."

Salvatore's silence was answer enough.

The rage I'd been holding back broke free.

I stood and drove my fist into his face. Once. Twice. Three times. Until blood poured from his nose and mouth.

"Lorenzo." Marcella's voice, soft but firm.

I stopped, breathing hard.

"Where is Cesare now?" I demanded.

"I don't know."

I hit him again.

"Where?"

"I don't know! He moves constantly. Giovanni's the only one who has direct contact"

"And where is Giovanni?"

"Morocco. Marrakech. There's a villa in the old city. Cesare might be there too. They're planning something. Something big."

"What?"

"I don't know. They didn't tell me. I was just supposed to report your movements. That's all."

I looked at Vito. "Is there a plane ready?"

"Yes. Fueled and waiting."

"Good." I turned back to Salvatore. "You're going to write down the address of that villa. Every detail you know. And then you're going to beg for a quick death."

"Lorenzo, please"

"You betrayed my father. You helped murder my mother. You've been selling my family's secrets for five years." I leaned in close. "There is no mercy for you."

He wrote down the address with shaking hands.

When he was done, I looked at Vito. "Make it quick. He doesn't deserve it, but I don't want Marcella to see what I'd really like to do to him."

Vito raised his gun.

"Wait," Marcella said.

We all turned.

She walked forward until she was standing in front of Salvatore.

"You helped kill my family," she said quietly. "You gave them the weapon. Helped them burn my home. Murdered my family."

"I'm sorry," Salvatore whispered. "I'm so sorry"

She pulled the knife from her boot, the same one she'd used at the vineyard, and drove it into his heart.

He gasped once and went still.

She pulled the blade free and wiped it clean on his shirt. Then she turned to me, her eyes hard.

"Now it's quick," she said. "Now we go to Morocco."

I stared at her. This woman who'd just executed my betrayer without hesitation. Who stood covered in blood and showed no fear.

She was magnificent.

I crossed to her and kissed her hard. "God, I love so you fucking much"

"I love you too." She looked down at the body. "Let's finish this."

We left the apartment and drove to the airfield.

Morocco was waiting.

And so was Giovanni.