THE MOB BOSS' DIRTY APOLOGY (1)

ISABELLA

I'm staring at cold pasta when Vello finally walks through the door at midnight.

Again.

"Tesoro," he says, loosening his tie. "You're still up."

I don't answer. Just take another sip of wine—my third glass—and watch him move through our penthouse like he owns it. Which he does. Vello Vize owns half this city.

He just doesn't seem to own any time for his wife.

"Isabella." He notices the uneaten dinner on the table. "You didn't have to wait."

"I didn't wait," I say flatly. "I gave up waiting three hours ago."

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. Even exhausted, he's beautiful—sharp jawline, broad shoulders, those intense dark eyes that made me fall in love with him five years ago.

Back when he still came home.

"I'm sorry. The meeting ran long—"

"They always run long."

"Business—"

"Is more important than me. I know." I stand up, grabbing my wine glass. "I'm going to bed."

"Isabella, wait—"

"For what, Vello? For you to promise it'll be different? We both know it won't be."

I head toward our bedroom, expecting him to let me go like he always does. Too tired to fight. Too busy to care.

Instead, he catches my wrist.

"Don't walk away from me," he says quietly.

"Why not? You walk away from me every day."

His grip tightens. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" I turn to face him. "When's the last time you touched me, Vello? Really touched me? When's the last time we had dinner together? When's the last time you fucked me like you actually wanted me?"

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes.

"When's the last time," I continue, my voice breaking, "you made me feel like I'm your wife instead of just expensive decoration?"

"I provide for you—"

"I don't want your money!" The words explode out. "I want my husband. I want the man who used to fuck me against every surface in this apartment. Who couldn't keep his hands off me. Who made me feel like I was the center of his entire world."

"You are—"

"Then prove it." I yank my wrist free. "Because right now I feel like nothing. Like I could disappear tomorrow and you wouldn't even notice until you needed arm candy for some event."

I storm into our bedroom and slam the door.

My heart's racing. We never fight like this. I'm usually too tired, too resigned to being the neglected wife of a powerful man.

But tonight something snapped.

I'm stripping off my dress when the bedroom door crashes open.

Vello stands there, jacket gone, tie loose, looking at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

"You want me to prove it?" His voice is low and dangerous.

"Vello—"

"You want me to show you that you're the center of my world? That I haven't forgotten how to make you scream my name?"

He's walking toward me now and my pulse skyrockets.

"Answer me, Isabella."

"Yes," I whisper.

He reaches me in two strides, hand sliding into my hair and yanking my head back. "Then shut up and let me remind you who you belong to."

His mouth crashes onto mine and it's not gentle. It's claiming and desperate and full of months of neglect transformed into raw need.

I melt into him, gasping when his other hand grips my ass hard enough to bruise.

"I've been a fool," he growls against my lips. "Neglecting my beautiful wife. Leaving you alone and aching when I should be buried inside you every fucking night."

"Yes—"

"Tell me what you need."

"You. I need you."

His hand tightens in my hair. "Be specific. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."

Heat floods through me. "I want you to fuck me. Hard. Like you used to."

"Like I own you?"

"Yes."

"Because I do own you, don't I, tesoro? This body is mine."

"Yes—"

He spins me around and shoves me face-first against the wall, yanking my dress up. "I'm going to prove it."