All Chapters of Owned By The King Of Blackwood (De Luca Series): Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Nico's POV The cabin was quiet, except for the sound of ice clinking in Matteo's glass at the back of the plane. I sat in the spacious leather captain's chair, a glass of water untouched on the table beside me. I glanced at the seat opposite me. Elena was asleep. She had curled up under a blanket, her head resting against the window. The red silk dress she wore to the charity gala was now wrinkled, the slit moving high on her thigh. Her hair fell over her face, gently shifting with her breath. She looked peaceful and soft. I reached out, wincing slightly as my chest muscles pulled, and brushed her hair away from her cheek. I traced her jawline with my thumb. Caleb St. James wanted a victim, I thought. Instead, he got a Queen who stabbed him in the shoulder and took his empire. A wave of pride hit me so hard it almost took my breath away. It wasn't the pride of ownership, even though I owned her, body and soul. It was the pride of partnership. She hadn't just stood behind me, she

Time moves differently when you are winning.Three weeks had passed since we returned from Washington.We weren't licking our wounds anymore, we were flexing our muscles. I stood in the doorway of Nico’s home office in the Tribeca penthouse. He was on the phone, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at his city.He wore dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that stretched tight across his back. He looked beautiful."I don't care what the union rep says," Nico said into the phone. His voice was a low, "Tell him the rates have changed, If he has a problem, he can come talk to me. But remind him that the last man who had a problem is currently resting at the bottom of the Hudson."He listened for a second, then hung up without saying goodbye.He turned around. When he saw me, his eyes darkened, heat flooding into them instantly."How long have you been standing there?" he asked."Long enough to know I shouldn't cross the union," I said, walking into the room.I was wearin

Matteo's Point of View Nico was off playing "Happily Ever After" with Elena, which meant the rest of us were officially off the clock. For most people, being off the clock meant Netflix and takeout but for me, it meant taking the scariest woman I knew on a date. We were at The Box, a club on the Lower East Side. It was exclusive enough to keep out tourists, but gritty enough to be fun. The lights were red, and the music had a strong bass. I sat in a booth, watching Sloane. She was stunning, she wore a black leather bustier and pants that looked painted on. She flipped a butterfly knife open and closed with one hand, looking bored. "You know," I called out over the music, "most girls like flowers or chocolate but you bring a knife to a club." Sloane snapped the knife shut.."I like being prepared, Rinaldi," she said, taking a sip of her whiskey neat. "And flowers die. Steel lasts forever." "You're so romantic," I grinned. I leaned closer, sliding my arm along the back of t

Elena’s POVNico De Luca did not shop like a normal person. He didn't browse racks, check price tags, or wait in line. He bought the whole store. Or, at least, he rented it for the afternoon.We were at a mall on Fifth Avenue, the heavy glass doors were locked to the public and the shades were drawn. Inside, it was a silent, glittering world of marble floors and nervous sales associates standing at attention like soldiers.I stood on a podium in front of a three-way mirror. I wore a dress that cost so much It was emerald green silk, backless, with a slit that went up to my hip."Turn," Nico commanded from the leather armchair behind me.I turned slowly. The silk swished around my legs.Nico watched me over the rim of a champagne glass. He looked bored, he scanned the dress as if searching for a crack in a wall. "No," Nico said.The sales associate, a woman named Patricia who trembled in her Chanel suit, rushed forward. "Is it the color, Mr. De Luca?" she asked breathlessly. "We h

Matteo’s POVI carried her into the guest bedroom she had claimed in the penthouse. It didn't smell like her apartment in Chelsea. It smelled like her soap and a faint, lingering scent of vanilla. I kicked the door shut with my heel and set her down on the edge of the bed. The moonlight filtered in through the curtains, casting silver stripes across her silk pajamas. Sloane looked beautiful. Not the sharp, intimidating beautiful I was used to, but something softer. "You okay?" I asked as I stood between her knees. "I'm fine," Sloane replied quickly. Too quickly. She reached for the hem of my t-shirt, her hands shook. I frowned. "Hey," I said, covering her hands with mine. "We don’t have to rush, we have all night, we have forever, if you want." "I want to rush," she said, her voice tight. "I want to get this over with." "Get it over with?" I laughed softly, though the knot in my stomach tightened. "Thanks. You really know how to make a guy feel special." "Shut up, Matteo," she