C6 – LESSONS FROM A MAFIA WIFE

C6 – LESSONS FROM A MAFIA WIFE

His mouth was warm, demanding, leaving no room for thought. He kissed her like she was his, and Lucy, without meaning to, clung to the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold onto something—anything—as her body surrendered against her will.

She didn't know when her knees buckled slightly, or when her breathing turned into soft gasps caught between kisses.

Eros guided her firmly, expertly, and she was trapped in that whirlwind of sensations, feeling completely overwhelmed.

Not just by the kiss, but by the way her body responded—how it pressed against his, how he made her forget all the hell she'd been through.

But then, all of Ezra's abuses, his insults, his beatings, came crashing down like an avalanche, and Lucy couldn't tell one brother from the other. Fear flooded every cell in her body, and the magic shattered.

She pulled back, frightened, but just as breathless from the kiss. When she finally regained some control, she jerked away as if she'd just been burned. Her heart pounded violently, but the taste of him still lingered on her lips—warm, addictive.

For his part, Eros watched her as he slowly licked his lips, savoring her kiss with clear satisfaction. Then he stepped back calmly, as if none of it had affected him.

"Now we have a deal, chérie (darling)," he murmured, barely smiling.

Lucy swallowed hard, still feeling the heat racing down her neck and back.

"Don't do that again," she whispered, not meeting his eyes.

Eros chuckled low, as if he'd heard something amusing.

"That's not going to be possible... because, as my wife, there will be many kisses." He winked at her and added, "And, for your misfortune, I like kissing, chérie (darling). Especially when the response is this delicious."

She blushed to the tips of her ears and looked away, embarrassed. She wondered how she was going to survive this man. Because Eros was just as dangerous as her husband—only his threat wasn't to her body, but to her heart. And she couldn't allow that.

"I'll have my butler prepare a room for you," Eros said, interrupting her thoughts. "I assume you want to rest. Besides, we still have work to do before we start your lessons."

"Lessons?"

He took a step toward her, and instinctively, Lucy stepped back. He didn't touch her—just looked at her with that dangerous smile on his lips.

"Oh, yes... lessons. Lessons from a mafia wife."

She stared at him in disbelief, unsure if he was joking or serious, but something in his gaze told her it wasn't just a game.

"You'll find out soon enough, chérie (darling). Now rest. I have some calls to make."

He called for the butler, and the man appeared immediately. Lucy followed him in silence, still trembling inside, wondering what he meant by lessons... and worse—if she'd made a mistake by agreeing to this.

When the door closed behind her and he was alone in the study, he closed his eyes for a second. His entire body was on edge because of that woman—and that wasn't something that happened often.

He liked women, obviously, but not to the point of losing his self-control... and his sister-in-law was managing just that. He turned his head and saw it; he leaned over and picked up the handkerchief he'd given her, bringing it slowly to his face.

He inhaled her scent.

A soft blend of her perfume: something floral, something sweet. He smiled, and then, with his lips still curved, dialed a number.

The line connected immediately.

"Pierre. I don't need an actress. I already have a wife."

The assistant glanced at the young woman he'd just hired and blinked, confused.

"Another actress, sir?"

Eros rubbed the handkerchief between his fingers, visualizing Lucy with her flushed cheeks and those soft brown eyes. Just the image stirred emotions in him he couldn't control.

"No. Someone better. Someone who'll fill the role... like no one else."

He hung up without another word, and Pierre stared at the phone, shaking his head in resignation.

"Great... another change of plans. Why didn't I become a florist?"

After hanging up, Eros walked to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a whiskey unhurriedly. He took a long drink, and in his mind, like a slap, Lucy's words came back:

"He... abused me multiple times. He's impotent. And since he can't... perform... with me... he used things..."

His hand tightened around the glass.

"You're a goddamn dog like our father, Ezra... scum that needs to be eliminated," he growled.

Even for him—with his unconventional tastes in bed—what Ezra had done was unacceptable. Disgusting. He'd never forced a woman. Never. It was mutual or it was nothing. But Ezra... Ezra wasn't a man. He was an animal.

And he'd take him out of the picture. He'd wanted to do it for a long time—and now he had a real reason.

He poured more whiskey, trying to calm the heat in his body. But it didn't work. Neither the ice nor the alcohol could quell the erection Lucy had stirred up. Frustration began to take hold of him.

He grabbed the phone again and dialed another number.

"Sonja," he got straight to the point. "Wait for me tonight... I need to..."

He thought of Lucy, of her mouth, of her body trembling against his.

"...unwind."

On the other end, the woman purred a "yes" that he barely registered. He hung up, pouring himself another whiskey. He looked at the glass for a second, then at the handkerchief.

"I hope you don't become a problem, sweet Lucy," he murmured, his lips tightening. "Because so far... I don't want to do without you."