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After that one time with Millie, there was one thing I was sure of:

In the thirteen years I'd been having sex, that was the best sex I'd ever had.

I couldn't even remember what it was like being with any other woman. I couldn't remember their names, the places, the thoughts, the feelings, the emotions - any of it.

One time with my wife was enough to erase them all from my memory as much as possible.

Every single thing about her was fucking perfect.

She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on with her long brown hair, beautiful brown eyes and olive toned skin. Don't forget her pillowy soft lips, curvaceous body and plump ass.

She even smelled the best and she sounded the best.

She didn't moan or scream obnoxiously like other women do. Even the sounds she made were elegant and classy - always perfectly timed and never too loud.

I could listen to her all fucking day and never get bored.

And the way she felt...every inch of her body was made to perfection.

And she was mine.

"Costa?" She whispered with her thick Greek accent, tracing her finger over my jaw. "Why are you staring at me?"

The teasing glint in her sleepy eyes seemed to be the thing that broke me out of my thoughts.

The morning light was streaming in from the open curtain and usually it would piss me off. But the light illuminated her even more, capturing that perfect glow on her face.

"Because, I can do whatever I want." I replied, tracing my thumb over her plump lower lip.

The way those lips felt against mine...cazzo.

She was about to reply, probably with one of her usual retorts, but a sound in the distance stopped her.

"What's that?" She frowned, scrunching her nose a little when she tried to listen harder.

The scratching continued and I released a low groan, running a hand over my face.

"Lula." She's going to be pissed.

"I'll go. I'm going to head to the gym now anyway." I pressed a kiss to Millie's cheek before climbing out of the bed. I stopped to put my boxers on, well aware of her eyes glued to my body.

I didn't even need to turn around, I just knew.

"Who's staring now, huh?" I also didn't need to turn around to know she was blushing. But I did, because I love teasing her whenever she blushes.

"I wasn't staring." She corrected me, her eyes trained on my lower half for emphasis. "It's not like there's much to look at anyway."

It was funny because we both knew it wasn't true. There's a lot to look at. A lot.

"I think it was big enough for you last night, no?" I mused, tossing her one of my T-shirts as a cover up.

"I imagined it would be bigger." She shrugged as I went to unlock the bedroom door. I barely even cracked it open before Lula slipped inside, hissing at me on her way in.

"Sorry, Lula." Millie called from the bed, now wearing my grey T-shirt.

Lula only hissed again at the sound of her name, heading straight over to her cat bed.

"I feel bad." Millie pouted her lips although I could tell she was amused at Lula's annoyance.

"She has beds all over the house." I mused, bending down to place a kiss on Lula's head. "Plus, this is going to be a regular occurrence from now on so she needs to get used to it."

I can't have her coming in when I'm deep inside my wife.

I don't know how Lula understood what I said, but she hissed again, baring her teeth at me for even longer this time.

Millie laughed from her place on the bed, a sound that was music to my ears.

"Can you bring her over here?" I turned to see my wife, still surrounded by the plush duvet, holding her arms out to me.

After a series of very threatening hisses from Lula, I managed to carry her over to Millie's waiting arms without letting her escape.

You'll never fucking guess what happened.

As soon as I put her down, Lula curled up in Millie's arms. She released a purr of contentment, closing her eyes.

"Fucking traitor." I muttered, stroking her thick fur.

"Leave her alone." Millie narrowed her eyes at me. "She's my best friend."

"She was my best friend before you got here." I felt like I had to remind her of that. It used to be Lula and Costa against the world until she arrived and snatched her away from me.

"Don't be jealous. It's not a good look on you." My wife grinned, relaxing back against the plush headboard with my cat in her arms.

"Oh, like how you were jealous last night while I was talking to Melina?" I cocked an eyebrow with a teasing smirk.

"I wasn't jealous. Don't be ridiculous." She scoffed. "I have a reputation to protect. I can't have random women flirting with my husband in public."

"So you're possessive and jealous?" I smirked, choosing to ignore everything else she just said. "That's hot."

"Whatever. I'm tired now." She sighed, getting comfortable in the bed to go back to sleep.

"Wait. How are you feeling after last night?" I spoke softly, caressing her cheek with my hand.

Even though I was as gentle as I could be, the pain was still enough to make her cry - even if it was only for a few seconds. But I hated seeing it. I hated knowing I was the reason for her pain.

"I'm a little sore." She smiled shyly, adjusting her position with Lula now lying in the bed next to her. "But I'll be okay."

"Do you need anything?"

"No. I just want to sleep." She sank back into the pillow, her brown hair splayed out around her.

"Okay, baby." I leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. "At least we know it's big enough to make you sore though, huh?"

I couldn't resist. She's so fun to play with.

"Why are you even still here? We're trying to rest. Go to the gym." With that she turned away from me, facing Lula on the bed next to her. She lay back down on her pillow, the two of them curling up to go back to sleep together.

Six months ago I hated this woman. Now I was smiling at the sight of her sleeping in my bed, in my T-shirt, with my cat.

Life is full of fucking surprises.

<<<<<<< >>>>>>> <<<<<<<<

The next week passed by in a blur. For once, shit seemed to be going well.

We flew back to New York a couple of days after New Year's - which did our relationship so much good. After the drama and stress of being in Sicily around my father, it was good for us to get away.

Millie and I were enjoying our bubble. Although we didn't have sex again so quickly after her first time, we still spent a lot of time together. It's like breaking that physical barrier brought us so much closer emotionally.

Even though I was busy with work, I made sure to have dinner with her every night. I wanted to make time for her - even if I had to go back out for work afterwards or if I had to meet her for dinner at a restaurant.

We also spent time watching the show about the lying bitches, but we'd end up pausing it to talk about some irrelevant shit here and there.

Tonight, however, was different. We were heading to one of our gentlemen's clubs in New York. It was known for its exclusivity and upscale entertainment with the best cigars, indulgent whiskey and dancers. It was for people with classy and refined taste as opposed to regular club goers.

I had some business to attend to with my top soldiers and capos in New York. But I also wanted to spend some quality time with my wife so I brought her with me after we went for dinner.

"I don't understand what your problem is."

"My problem is you." My wife snapped from the back seat of the Porsche. The fucking back.

"I thought you liked me."

"Not anymore." She growled and I could literally feel the hatred coming off her in waves.

"But-"

"One night. You couldn't even give us one night." She'd been repeating herself all evening, but these two idiots just weren't getting it.

It was supposed to be a special date night. I even brought her flowers and everything.

But now she was currently sitting in the back of the car with Aidan while Giovanni took the front seat next to me. He started fighting with Millie outside the fancy restaurant we just had dinner at. When he drew too much attention, she eventually gave in and got in the back with Aidan.

Neither of them were invited, but somehow they got themselves into the car at the last minute when we were leaving the penthouse. So they ended up coming to dinner with us and now the club.

"Bitch, you have all nights of the year to be alone." Giovanni waved her off before nudging my arm to get my attention. "Bro, that guy is looking at us weird."

"Don't call my wife a bitch. I'm not your fucking bro. Don't fucking touch me. And he's a fucking bouncer - he's doing his fucking job." I spoke through gritted teeth, waiting for my security to give us the all clear to get out the car so I could get the hell away from them.

We were parked right outside the entrance so I'm not surprised the bouncer was eyeing the car with caution. That was what I paid him to do.

It was one of the most exclusive spots in the city, known for its high-end clientele and shady deals. The security here was tighter than Fort Knox. We catered for politicians, celebrities, business tycoons and CEOs and of course, mafioso.

Our reputation as the Accardi family preceded us, and everyone knew that crossing us was a death sentence. But you can never be too careful - people are stupid.

Whenever we're in New York, we'd often conduct our more public meetings from here just to maintain our presence. It's essential to remind everyone who was in charge.

As we got out the car, the bouncers straightened up, their eyes widening in recognition. They didn't dare speak, just nodding respectfully at the four of us. The heavy oak doors of the club swung open, and the familiar sound of jazz and murmured conversations washed over me.

Millie's arm intertwined with mine as the rich aroma of expensive cigars and aged whiskey hit me. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the polished dark wood paneling and the plush leather chairs. Patrons sat at intimate tables, engaged in quiet conversations or enjoying the performances of the dancers.

As we made our way through the club, I felt every gaze turn towards us. Millie walked beside me, looking beautiful in a sleek black dress that hugged her curves perfectly. The twins flanked us, their presence alone enough to part the sea of patrons as we made our way to the back.

Our usual booth was elevated, giving us a perfect view of the entire club. I scanned the crowd, spotting familiar faces—clients, allies, and those who owed us. They all made sure to keep their distance, sending respectful and fearful glances our way.

Rocco was already waiting with our capos, expertly lighting up a cigar. The smoke curled around his face, giving him an even more menacing look.

As we approached, Luca nodded respectfully at me before his eyes shifted to the twins.

"Why did you have to bring those idiots?" He sighed, leaning back into the leather booth.

"Hey. Don't speak about my brother and Millie that way." Giovanni scoffed, throwing an arm around my wife's shoulders. The action caused a few smiles while I just glared at him - or more precisely, his arm.

"Sorry." He quickly removed his arm, taking an exaggerated step away from her.

"Come on." I guided Millie towards my usual spot in the centre of the booth, sparing Giovanni one last glare.

We made small talk while I lit up my cigar, settling down into the booth.

"I thought you were going for dinner first?" Rocco frowned, aiming his question at my wife.

"We did." She was now glaring at the two idiots who shamelessly grinned back.

"But you brought..." His eyes drifted over to the twins who weren't supposed to be coming out tonight.

"Bro, they crashed your date?" Rocco laughed, speaking to me in a hushed tone since we were surrounded by our men.

"Fuck off." I snapped, taking another hit of my cigar.

A waitress approached with a tray of drinks, her hands trembling slightly. She placed the glasses on the table with the utmost care, avoiding eye contact.

"What do you want, baby?" I leaned in to whisper in Millie's ear, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw.

"A martini please." She smiled, her cheeks turning slightly pink at the public display of affection.

"One martini." I spoke to the waitress while she unloaded the glasses off her tray. I took a sip of the whiskey, savoring the burn as it went down.

As soon as Millie's drink was delivered, we got down to business with no more interruptions. We went around the table, catching up with each of the capos. Most of it was straight forward until we came to the last one.

"I've had reports the Irish are pushing into our territory." One of the newest capos, Tony, gave his update. It's worth noting, he was promoted by my father - not me.

"They're harmless." Rocco laughed, his voice thick from the cigar smoke. "They're too weak to do anything. Just keep an eye on them."

"Shall I send them a reminder of who they're messing with?" Tony asked Rocco with a smirk, but it was deflected to me.

From the little I cared to know about him, Tony was more violent with his approach to problems. His problem was that he didn't see the bigger picture.

"Costa?" Rocco turned to me, waiting for my final command.

"Don't let it get aggressive. As much as they might be weak, we can't afford distractions - not with Kozlov and Aco lurking around."

"And the cops are getting close on that side of the city." Luca added. "We've got a shipment coming in over there. We need to protect it. Can't afford to lose men to the Irish when the cops are on our backs."

I nodded in agreement, leaning back in the booth. Spreading my legs out in a relaxed posture, I took a hit of my cigar as I thought over the situation.

"Pay off the cops. I don't want any heat on that shipment." I finally decided. It was the easiest and quietest solution.

"They're fucking nuisances - just scum." Tony spat, his eyes meeting mine from across the table. "We don't need to pay them shit."

I rose an eyebrow, the table falling silent when he openly disagreed with me. Even Millie tensed up next to me. I clenched my jaw, resisting every urge in my body to teach that fucker a lesson for defying me.

"Tony." Rocco spoke with a warning tone. The guy should have been quaking in his boots with fear from being on the receiving end of our glares.

But he thought he had some kind clout after being promoted by my father.

"What? It's true. Costa, you need to teach them a lesson." This stronzo had the balls to call me by my name like we were fucking friends. "We already pay enough police chiefs and deputies. If a couple of fuckers in a squad car are trying too hard for a promotion, we can just remind them who they're messing with."

I remained silent just watching him the longer he dug himself a hole - deciding to insult me next. "You don't want to pander to a police constable like a pussy, do you? You're better than that, Costa."

"You're digging yourself a grave, bro." Aidan muttered, smart enough to see how this was going to end for Tony.

He was just a capo - easily replaceable. He should have known better.

"Stay out of this." Tony snapped at Aidan which was his final mistake.

"Speak to him like that again, cagna. I dare you." Giovanni was ready to get up from his seat to attack, when I held a hand up to stop him. My cousin paused, his eyes flitting between Tony and I.

"Luca." I murmured, swirling my glass of whiskey before taking a sip.

With a single look to our security stationed around the room, Luca stood to his feet. Three men approached the table, grabbing Tony by his arms to lift him from his chair.

"One to ten?" Luca asked as he took his suit jacket off, tossing it on his chair.

"Nine." I replied, involuntarily smiling when he grinned at me.

"Fucking finally." He breathed. "You've been giving me too many sixes and sevens."

"In that case, take the twins." Rocco smirked knowing exactly how much Luca hated the twins. "They should see you in action with a nine."

"Fuck no." Only Luca could ever openly defy an order. He's earned that right with his years of service to my family.

"Let's go, bro." Giovanni laughed excitedly, jumping up from his seat. The twins really call everyone bro - even the people who so openly hate them.

Aidan followed suit, clapping Luca on the back before following the security to the back where they dragged Tony.

"I hate you." Luca scowled at Rocco who saluted him with a glass of whiskey in return. Once Luca was gone, Rocco turned to the rest of the capos who'd been watching the ordeal in silence.

"The rest of you are dismissed." They didn't waste any time to get out of there. As soon as Rocco, Millie and I were alone, she asked the most important question.

"What does a nine mean?"

"It's the pain level." Rocco answered, flashing her one of his sadistic grins. Her mouth formed an 'o' shape before she cleared her throat, looking around at the club.

"I like this place." Her clear deflection caused the two of us to laugh - the earlier tension now long gone.

She continued the scan the upscale gentleman's club until her eyes landed on the stage where Candace, one of our most popular dancers, was mid performance.

"Although, I don't like that. Maybe you can get rid of them?" She turned to me with an innocent smile.

"You want the dancers gone?" I smirked, knowing it was her jealousy fuelling her suggestion. It had only been a week since we slept together but I was already seeing signs that my wife had a jealous streak. A very strong jealous streak.

And to me, it was sexy as hell.

"I mean, you can fire them or just kill them. I don't mind." She shrugged, casually sipping on her martini.

"Your wife is vicious." Rocco laughed. "Is she like that in bed too?"

"I'm like that all the time. Why don't you come over here and find out?" She smiled at my brother, reaching her hand down to her thigh where I knew her knife was strapped.

"Let's not cause a scene." I muttered, already sensing an argument brewing between the two. They couldn't get along for even five minutes.

The two of them were glaring each other while I scanned the room since I was always keeping a mental note of who was coming in and out.

"We have a few regulars." I pointed out to Rocco, eyeing the patrons who've been known to cause us issue in the past - either by owing us money or causing disruptions here.

"Everything looks good." Rocco murmured, taking a slow drag of his cigar. "No trouble so far."

"Good." I replied, my eyes still scanning the room. "Let's keep it that way."

We stayed in the same booth for the rest of the night. When they came back, the twins spent most of their time giggling away with Millie. She was a lot more relaxed with them once she'd had a couple of martinis.

As the night wore on, the club buzzed with activity, but our presence kept everything in check. We were about to call it a night when I noticed a group of men entering the club. They didn't fit the usual profile of our patrons yet they somehow made it past security. They were rough-looking, their eyes scanning the room with an unsettling intensity.

"Rocco, check them out. Take the twins." I nodded toward the newcomers, interrupting his conversation with the twins.

Rocco and the twins moved quickly, intercepting the men before they could get too far. I watched as they exchanged words, the tension palpable. It didn't take long for Rocco to pull out his gun, pressing it against the leader's chest.

The room fell silent, all eyes on the confrontation. I stood up, making sure Millie stayed back at the booth as I approached them.

"What's the problem here?" I asked, my voice calm but deadly.

"This is Accardi territory." Rocco said, not taking his eyes off the man. "You've got no business here."

The leader scoffed, clearly unimpressed with the show of force. "We're just here for a good time."

He had a thick accent - unmistakably a Serbian accent.

"Then you can leave." I used a cold tone, stepping closer. "Because your kind of 'good time' isn't welcome here."

The man's hand twitched toward his waistband, but before he could pull out a weapon, Gio and Aidan had their guns trained on him and his crew. It was a standoff, and I knew it could turn bloody at any moment.

I couldn't risk it. Not here and especially not with the twins and my wife here.

"Last chance." I said, my voice low and menacing, signalling for my security to approach. "Leave now, or we'll make you leave."

The leader looked around, realising he was outnumbered and outgunned. With a grunt, he motioned for his men to back off. They retreated, but not before throwing a final glare our way.

"Aco sends his best. This isn't over." The leader sneered, rushing out of the club before I could even process what he said.

I watched them leave, my jaw clenched. "It never is."

As the tension eased, the club slowly returned to normal. I turned to Millie, who was watching me with concern from the booth.

I turned back to Rocco and the twins who had now tucked away their weapons although they were still on edge.

"Find out what the fuck just happened." I growled, my eyes trained on the door they managed to get through. "And deal with the security who let them in."

As we left the club, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. The Serbians were getting bolder, and it was only a matter of time before they made another move.

His parting words were his way of telling me it wasn't a random visit. The Serbs, and the Russians, were testing us - probing for weaknesses. And they wouldn't stop until they found one.

Even in the safety of our apartment, I couldn't get the thoughts out of my head.

"Rocco, make sure someone is always keeping an eye on the club. I don't want any more surprises."

"We need to find out what they were really after." Millie said, her voice thoughtful. "They wouldn't just show up like that without a reason."

"I'll get our guys to look into it." Rocco sighed, pouring three glasses of whiskey for us. "And I'll let Tristano know. He'll get everyone on alert in Sicily."

"Good." I nodded, accepting the glass. Rocco knocked his back before retiring to his room for the night. That just left Millie and I alone in the living area.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, the weight of the night still lingering in the atmosphere.

"You okay?" She eventually whispered, handing me her glass of whiskey. She doesn't like whiskey, she's definitely a cocktail girl.

She'd also drank more than enough for the night - she didn't need anymore. I could tell she was tipsy, if not mildly drunk.

"Sì." I sighed, relaxing back into the couch with my legs spread out in front of me. "I just...I don't need this shit right now, Millie. I have enough going on."

Being the Underboss of the Sicilian Mafia was hard enough without being at war with the Serbs and the Russian Bratva.

"I know it's hard but you've got a lot of support. You have your brothers, Luca, the twins." She listed, brushing her fingers through my hair to slick it back. "You even have your father. I know he can be a little difficult, or maybe just completely monstrous. But he's your father and-"

Her words were cut off when I suddenly leaned in, pressing my lips to hers. She released a soft, almost inaudible squeak at the unexpected contact. But she quickly recovered, leaning into the kiss to deepen it.

I broke away from her just long enough to finish the rest of the whiskey and get rid of the glass.

"Come here." I took her hand, pulling her onto my lap. My hands immediately went to her hips as I crashed my lips back onto hers.

When I pulled away to take a breath, she traced her fingers down the tattoo on the side of my neck.

"You know...seeing you so dominant and powerful today was really hot." It was the alcohol still flooding her system that gave her the confidence to say that.

My wife was shy as fuck when it came to flirting and coupley shit. I loved it when she was blushing and timid, but I also loved it when she came out with these random bold statements.

"Yeah?" I smirked, tightening my hold on her. I leaned in, pressing light kisses to her jaw. "Did it make you wet for me, baby?"

Even the alcohol in her system wasn't enough to stop her blushing at my crude remark. Instead of replying to me, she kissed me again, this time with more urgency. Feeling her hands on my upper body only spurred me on more.

One thing I learned over the years is that French kissing is a technique that really needs to be practiced. Some people are just really fucking bad at it.

But it was just another thing to add to the fucking list of things my wife could do really well without even trying. She fought my tongue for dominance, smirking against my lips. Then she tugged on my hair, distracting me just enough to win.

With the amount of tension in my body, I was struggling not to take her right there and then.

"Costa..." She moaned softly against my lips when I squeezed her ass, gripping it firmly.

I needed this. I needed the release.

"Not here." She whispered, pulling away from my lips to catch her breath. That's all the encouragement I needed to lift her into my arms, standing to my feet to carry her weightless body to our room.

She instinctively wrapped her legs around my waist, kissing me while I carried her through the hallways to our room.

I tossed her onto the bed causing her to bounce, a squeak leaving her lips. "Hey! Be careful, maláka." (Asshole)

"Shut up." I growled, climbing on top of her. I crashed my lips to hers again, savouring every single second of the kiss.

Meanwhile she started unbuttoning my shirt, only breaking the kiss to help me get it off. Then her lips were back on mine again.

Her hands roamed my upper body, leaving heat everywhere she touched.

Soon I flipped us over so that she was on top and I could unzip her dress. I helped her out of it, my movements seizing when I saw the surprise underneath.

"Red?" I smirked, tugging on the waistband of her panties above her hip bone, causing it to snap back against her skin.

"It was meant to be a surprise. We were going to go on a date and then to the club and afterwards..." Her sentence trailed off, her cheeks flushing a darker shade of pink. "Do you like it?"

"Cazzo." I groaned, drinking in the sight of the red lace contrasting against her olive skin. "You've been wearing this all night? I love it, baby. You're so beautiful."

And she was all mine.

With that, I got back to work, letting her know just how much I appreciated the red lingerie.

It was only her second time, so I was still as gentle and careful with her as the first time. It was hard though. She felt so good and the alcohol, tension and anger in my system didn't help.

But I'd never hurt her. I don't think I'd ever become rough or more relaxed with it until she told me she was ready for it. Knowing I was the one causing her pain or discomfort was already hard for me.

Slow, romantic, sensual sex wasn't something I ever did - because there was never anyone to do it with.

It was new for me. It was also something I always assumed I would hate. But I didn't because it was with Millie.

"I love you." I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She smiled lazily, stroking my cheek with her thumb."I love you too, baby."

"Baby, huh? It took you long enough." I teased, loving the way her cheeks became pink so easily. She was still tipsy too so she was way more responsive.

It was the first time she called me baby. Otherwise, she was pretty reserved when it came to pet names and affection or anything too romantic. Usually, I was the one instigating anything between us. I didn't mind though. It had only been a week so I knew all of this was a big change for her.

"I won't say it if you're going to comment about-"

"No, I like it." I laughed, pulling her closer to my chest. "You know, you can call me whatever you want."

"Let's just start with this." She smiled, a hint of shyness still lingering. She pressed a kiss to my bare chest, continuing to rest her head there while I ran my fingers through her hair.

It was the calm after the storm.

"Costa? I want to ask you something."

Or the calm before the storm.

She broke the short, comfortable silence that fell between us. My silence was my way of telling her to go ahead but she seemed hesitant. "Where do you see yourself settling down?"

"Settling down?" I frowned, my fingers coming to a stop in her hair. As soon as I realised what she meant, my walls involuntarily shot up.

Any conversations about my living situation had the power to make me uncomfortable. When I get uncomfortable, my temper rises really easily - which she already knew.

"Yeah. I mean, eventually you're going to have to choose somewhere to live more permanently, right? You can't travel around forever."

Millie already knew my routine pretty well since we got married. We were never in one place for too long - or at least, I wasn't.

For as long as I could remember, my life has been spent travelling between New York and Sicily - and anywhere else I needed to go.

I wouldn't really call either one my home.

But it's not something I wanted to discuss with her, or anyone.

"I don't know, Millie. I haven't really thought about it." I tried to convey my...distaste towards the conversation, but she either missed it in her tipsy state, or she chose to ignore it.

"I just...I understand you want me to feel at home in the penthouse which is why you said I can design it. But, I don't think it would really feel like my home if we didn't actually live there."

"Let's just focus on getting the penthouse ready. Then we can see." I tried again to brush her off, but she continued anyway.

"That's going to take months. And it looks like I'll be doing most of it on my own." She sat up from her place on my chest, holding the bedsheet to stay covered. "Why can't you just answer the question?"

"I don't want to talk about this right now, Millie. Please leave it." I tried again knowing exactly what the outcome would be if we didn't stop here.

"It was just a question. We need to talk about this eventually." She frowned, studying me like she was trying to figure me out.

That just lit the fuse to my irritation because she knew I hated it when she did that. I don't know why, but I've always hated her trying to read me and understand me.

It's something I have to work on, I know. But not like this. Not with this topic.

"We'll talk about it when we need to. Anyway, you know I can't just permanently move to New York, Millie - not matter how much you like it here." I sighed, rolling over to the edge of the bed.

I decided to leave before my emotions became a problem. It's not like she got the hint to stop before it went too far. It had to be the alcohol she'd been drinking all evening - she was missing all the warning signs.

"I'm not saying-"

"My work is split between Sicily and New York. You know that." I stood up, putting my boxers back on.

"But, Costa, we need to-"

"Isn't three weeks every month here enough for you? Why do you-"

"Can you just shut up for a second?" She glared at me, her irritation spiking. And so did mine, especially when she spoke to me with that tone.

She shuffled in the bed, holding the sheets to her chest. She was now kneeling, wrapping the sheet around her body while I continued to hold her stare.

"I'm not asking you to move here, Costa. I already know you can't. My point is, we need to make some kind of decision over our future. Or at least, we need to discuss it."

"Our future?" I scoffed, putting a white T-shirt on. "We only just fucked last week. You don't need to get so carried away."

"Fucked? Is that what it was?" She instantly glared at me, that familiar fire sparking in her eyes.

I knew I hurt her, and I regretted it as soon as the words came out. But she didn't understand how fucking hard this conversation was for me.

Or the memories it brought back.

And she just sprung it on me without any fucking warning. I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen.

"You can't just try to hurt me with your words to shut me up, Costa. I'm not some weak bitch who you can just walk all over. We need to talk about this."

I chose not to reply to her, biting my tongue in hopes I wouldn't say anything else to upset her.

It's kind of fucking hard when my wife is the most stubborn little spitfire I've ever met.

"I don't see the point wasting my time designing the penthouse alone if we're hardly going to be here. And if you don't care, or you don't see it as our future or our home, then I can just use this time to work on my company."

Still, I remained silent while she glared at me - her voice full of control and dominance. Let's not forget, she's a mafia princess in her own right. She's not afraid to handle herself.

"So, I'll ask you again." She demanded, her tone dripping with condescension, as if she were scolding a child. "What's your plan?"

"I don't answer to you." I snarled through gritted teeth, struggling to hold onto the last remnants of my patience. My breath was rapidly increasing as anger coursed through my veins.

But she seemed hell-bent on pushing me right to the fucking edge.

"Yes, you do. In here, you do." She gestured around the bedroom, her fierce resolve unwavering.

That was the edge.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" I growled, stepping towards the bed. The tension in the room exploded, her glare matching the intensity of my own.

She rose onto her knees, trying to match my height from her position on the bed.

"I'm your wife. When it comes to us and our family, I have just as much of a say as you do."

"No, you don't. You'll do what I fucking tell you to do." I spat, closing the distance between us, my rage consuming every rational thought. "My plan and what I choose to do is up to me. When I decide, I'll tell you, and you'll follow like the little bitch you are."

She didn't even skip a beat.

Her hand struck my cheek with a sharp crack, her tear-filled brown eyes burning into mine with a fierce intensity I had never seen before.

Ooh 👀 Did you expect the fight at the end? I feel like Costa really made it clear he didn't want to talk about it 🥲

What did you think? 🩷