His Wife: A Dark Mafia Romance (Dark Sovereign Book 2)
His Wife: Chapter 19

Mira bursts through the front door just as we get out of the car. “You’re back!” Excitement glows on her cheeks, and it seems like she’s floating as she strides toward us, her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. “I’m so happy you’re back.” She throws her arms around my neck, squeezing me hard enough to crack bone. “I never knew how much I love having you around until you boarded that damn airplane.”

“I missed you, too.” I smile, hugging her back. She smells like flowers. Familiar. Home.

“How was it? How was your trip?” She leans back to look at me. “Did Alexius spoil you? Did he take you shopping?” Her eyes brighten, and she clasps her hands together. “Tell me he took you to see the Colosseum. If he didn’t, there’s something wrong with him on a spectacularly high level.”

“Mira,” Alexius blurts. “Take a breath before you pass out.”

“Okay, fine. I missed you, too. No need to be jealous,” she teases before hugging him. Her energy is dizzying and infectious. All I can do is smile as she turns to me, taking my hand.

“Come on.” Mira practically drags me inside, her smile illuminating her whole face. “I’ve arranged for us to have lunch so you can tell me everything.”

“Mira,” Alexius groans from behind us. “Leave her be. We just got home after a nine-hour flight. At least let her get settled first.”

Mira snaps her gaze in his direction, staring at him, deadpan. “You know what women do after their friend spends a week in Rome?”

“What?”

“We gossip. We pry. We ask about the sightseeing when all we really want to know is how the sex was. Where it happened. How it happened. And how many times.”

“Who says we had sex?” Alexius shoots her a pointed stare, and Mira freezes, narrowing her eyes.

“You are seriously jet-lagged. Aren’t you?”

Alexius looks over Mira’s shoulder at Nicoli as if silently asking for help.

Nicoli shrugs. “Don’t look at me. I told you before, the women in this house are fucking crazy, yet you insist we feed them.”

“Oh. My. God.” Everyone looks at Mira while she’s gaping at my hand. “He gave you a wedding ring?”

“He…uhm—”

She pulls my hand closer, spreading my fingers as she stares at the square-cut diamond with two baguettes on each side. “It’s absolutely stunning. My God, Alexius. You picked it without me?”

He cocks a brow, glowering her way. “I’m capable of buying my wife something without your help, Mira.”

She scoffs. “Be glad this ring has a huge fucking rock, or I would have been in a great position to tell you just how much of an idiot you really are.” Mira hooks her arm in mine. “Now, I need to know everything.” She glances over her shoulder at Alexius. “And I mean everything.”

“I’m not telling you everything,” I say, and she quickly hushes me.

“Shush. Let the man stew a bit. I promise you he won’t be able to do a goddamn thing for the next two hours while he wonders what the hell it is we’re talking about. Alexius is so high-strung all the damn time. I love screwing with his head every now and then. But seriously,” she stops just as we round the corner, out of sight, “was it like a mixing-pleasure-with-business kind of trip? Or was it an I-couldn’t-walk-right-half-the-time kind of trip?”

I wrinkled my nose and purse my lips. “A little of both?”

“Ugh, never mind,” she concedes, grabbing my hand again. “Tell me about this ring. What does this mean?” she asks urgently. “Are you two, like, married, married? Like, is it a permanent thing now?”

Heat prickles across my cheeks, a flutter of excitement starting in my stomach as I remember our time at the club, right before he gave me this ring. If any couple experienced one night that defined them, the night at Mito would be ours. That night raised our level of trust to new heights. Watching him make that woman come while his attention was solely focused on me, proving that there was no other woman for him but me—it shifted the dynamic between us. I no longer wonder about his time spent as a single man at Myth. I don’t feel this overwhelming jealousy tighten around my throat when thinking about the girls at their clubs, how many he’s fucked, how many he’s shared. It’s no longer of any consequence to me, to us, because what we have—what we experienced at Mito—it’s ours, and no one can take that away from us. I trust him. He trusts me. We trust each other. It’s a bond I know we’ll cherish. And he sealed that bond when he gave me a proper wedding ring that night, under the Italian sky at the top of the Spanish Steps. My heart’s been full ever since.

I smile, my soul floating with a happiness I’ve never felt before. “Yes. It’s permanent.”

“Holy shit!” Mira exclaims, trying to muffle her excitement by holding her hands over her mouth, but her green eyes are practically beaming. “You’re my sister-in-law for real now? Well, kind of. God, I don’t know what I’m more excited about. You and Alexius finally getting your heads out of your asses, or me finally getting a sister.” She wraps me in another tight hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

I’ve missed talking to her the last few days. Her energy. Her optimism. How she brings this entire household to life.

“Thank you. But let’s just see how it goes first before we bring on the fireworks.”

Mira’s lips curl in a sly grin as she taps her finger against her temple. “I’m already planning your first-anniversary party.”

“Stop.” I snicker. “We still have a few months to go before we get there. So, tell me, how is Mrs. Del Rossa doing?” I ask once Mira finally lets go of me, and we sit on the couch in front of the fireplace.

Mira pulls her feet up under her, leaning back. “Not good. I’m worried about her. She hasn’t received any guests since the funeral and hardly leaves her room. Not to mention the fact that she’s barely eating.” Worry creases her brow as she stares at the crackling fire. “I suppose it’s all part of the grieving process.”

“I wish there were something we could do,” I say, unable to imagine exactly what she’s going through after losing her life partner. All I can do is think of how I’d feel if something happened to Alexius, and we’ve only been together for a short while.

“The only thing that can heal grief is time.” She turns her gaze to mine. “How is Alexius doing? Is he coping…after everything?”

“I think so,” I reply. “He’s been less distracted during our trip than before we left. But I’m pretty sure that’s about to change since we’re back.”

Mira nods. “Things are strange around here for sure.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. The brothers are all just acting weird, more secretive than usual.”

“Nicoli?” I ask, raising a brow.

She sighs. “He’s been even more distant, if that’s even possible.”

There’s pain in her words masked with a sneer. There’s something between the two of them, something so strong everyone around them can feel it—except for them. For him. Or maybe he does; he just chooses to ignore it. My bet would be on the latter.

“The other day,” Mira starts, “I overheard a conversation between Nicoli and Caelian.”

“Eyes and ears, huh?” I tease.

“Hey, these guys give us nothing. They just expect us to walk around here and look pretty without knowing what the hell is going on behind closed doors. It’s my God-given right to know exactly what’s happening around here.”

I snicker. “What were they talking about?”

“Swear this stays between us.”

“Of course.”

Her blonde hair cascades down the sides of her face as she pulls her fingers through it, her expression somber. “I heard something about a murder at Myth.”

“Murder?” I blurt, and Mira shushes me, glancing over her shoulder to the entryway.

“Keep quiet.”

“Sorry,” I whisper. “But…murder?”

“Yeah.” She shifts closer. “I couldn’t hear everything. All I got was something about a murder at Myth and that they’re using Mr. Del Rossa’s passing as an excuse to keep the club closed for a while.”

My gaze drifts from Mira to the fireplace, sparks of oranges and reds flickering, glinting with golden light as the flames consume the wood. “A murder at Myth. It seems unreal,” I mutter, deep in thought. “Is it one of the girls working there?”

“That’s my guess,” she answers, shrugging one shoulder.

“Mirabella,” Maximo calls from the foyer.

“Dammit,” she sighs. “I forgot my brother’s back, too. It was so freeing being able to take a pee without having to explain where I’ve been for a total of five fucking minutes.”

I chuckle. “He’s just protective of you.”

“Yeah, well,” she gets up and straightens her white blouse, “his protection is suffocating. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

I watch as she walks out, her skinny jeans hugging every curve tightly and ankle boots giving her enough lift to make it seem like her slender legs went on for miles.

If what Mira heard is true, it would explain why Alexius was so distant and distracted before our trip. I’ve never been to Myth. It might as well be a million miles away, but I can’t help feeling this sense of dread. Worry. Like it’s closer to home than we think. Or maybe I’m just tired and need to get some rest. Hopefully, not too much will change now that we’re back home, surrounded by reality. Our time in Rome was perfect. I don’t want anything to ruin it—to ruin this good feeling swirling in my chest.

Whatever it is Alexius and I had found in Rome…I hope to God we’ll be able to keep it.

ALEXIUS

Nicoli closes my office door, and I glance at him while pouring two glasses of whiskey. His jet-black hair is shorter than it was the last time I saw him. “You got a haircut.”

“I did. I do still have my balls, though.”

I snort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You handed your balls over to your wife in Italy, didn’t you?”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

He tips his glass toward me. “I might be an asshole. But at least I’m not pussy-whipped.”

I lift a brow. “You sure about that?”

“Drink your whiskey and shut the fuck up.”

All I can do is snicker as I take a seat on the leather couch across from him, savoring the sting of the whiskey as it slides down my throat, settling in my stomach.

Nicoli smirks in my direction. “I must say, the diamond ring looks much better than the gold band she’s been wearing.”

“What can I say? I wasn’t feeling inspired when I got her the gold band.”

“And your wife inspired you in Rome?” His suggestive tone has me rolling my eyes. “Just how much did she inspire you?”

“If you’re looking for details about my sex life, you ain’t getting it.”

“Oh, come on.” He leans back and stretches his arm across the back edge. “I remember a time when you were always eager to share.”

“And that’s all in the past now.”

“Is it?” He narrows his eyes at me. “Is it really?”

I smirk. “Pry all you want, Nicoli. I’m not telling you shit about the sex between my wife and me.”

“My wife and me? Jesus.” He grins like an idiot. “Listen to you, speaking the language of a married man. I still remember the night you told us Dad was forcing you to take a wife, something you were extremely pissed off about. You remember that night? The night you had that girl fuck me while she still had your cum in her mouth.” He moans appreciatively. “Good times.”

“Stop.”

“If someone had told me that night you’d be sitting here today with your dick in a twist over some woman, I would have called bullshit.”

Him and me both. I didn’t go into this marriage thinking it would end up being anything other than a major inconvenience. The day I watched Leandra walk down the aisle, I hated the idea of being married to her. I hated what she represented—a life where others made the decisions for me. I resented my dad for forcing my hand, for threatening my position in this family. And now look at me. I went from a billionaire playboy who fucked for selfish pleasure to a husband who loved nothing more than to look at his wife’s face while she comes all over his dick. I went from looking forward to the day Leandra left and I’m finally free of her to reaching new lows on my already questionable moral compass in order to have her stay. She says she loves me, that she doesn’t want to leave, but I’m not a man who leaves anything to chance.

“What is it?” Nicoli eyes me with curiosity. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.” I clear my throat. “I’m just thinking about how fast things can change.”

“My twin telepathy is going apeshit right now. You’re up to something.”

I smirk, taking a sip of whiskey. “Maybe your twin telepathy is broken.”

“Brother, there are two things of mine that are never, ever broken. My twin telepathy, and my dick.”

“Then maybe I’m broken.”

He snickers. “No, you’re not. You’re just in love with a girl. I gotta say, brother,” he continues, “out of the four of us, I didn’t think you’d be the first to get tamed.”

“You and me both. I always thought you’d be the first to cave.”

“What? Who? Me?” He acts all surprised.

“I was sure you’d come to your senses sooner rather than later.”

He shifts in his seat. “Please tell me you’re not referring to—”

“I am.” I keep his gaze, challenging him to deny what everyone in this house already knows. “It’s only a matter of time—”

“How’re Gian and Saint doing?”

I smile at my small victory, getting Nicoli to stop prying and being an ass about my relationship with Leandra. “They’re good.”

“Is that redhead still—”

“Daniela—”

“Yes, her. Is she still hot as fuck?”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You know Gian will cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass if he hears you say that?”

“Hey, just saying it as it is. That wife of his…goddamn.” Nicoli sucks air through his teeth. “Can you imagine her on her knees, staring up at you with those gorgeous, mismatched eyes, your cock stuffed in her mouth?”

“I swear to God, if Gian wants your head on a stick one day, I ain’t saving you.” I slam back the rest of my whiskey and stand to pour myself another one.

“Talking about wanting other men’s wives,” Nicoli taunts, “Isaia hasn’t been home.”

I turn to face my twin. “Where’s he been?”

“Staying at Melanie’s.”

“Melanie?” I ask, surprised. “The woman he’s been fucking?”

“Yeah.” Nicoli crosses his legs, settling in his seat. “He has her set up in this nice little apartment across town.”

“Is it serious?” A part of me hopes it is. Maybe if he has a girlfriend to focus on, he’ll be less likely to obsess over my wife.

“Nah. It’s just pussy for him. He’s been fucking Melanie for a while now.” He swirls his drink. “So, is our friendship with Saint and Gian still solid?”

“It is.” I take my seat. “If shit hits the fan, we can count on their support.”

Nicoli leans his head to the side. “And by shit, you mean Roberto?”

“I doubt our problem with our uncle will become that big of an issue to warrant outside intervention. But yes. If we need their help, they will give it.”

“And there are no strings attached to having their support?”

“None,” I reply. “Gian and Saint have no desire for an alliance.”

“Remind me how that works again.” Nicoli narrows his eyes. “We’re not in an alliance with them, yet they’ll lend us their balls and firepower if we need it, and we’ll do the same for them?”

“Why do you always have to refer to everyone’s balls?”

He sits up and leans forward. “Let me ask you this. If someone refers to a man’s balls in a conversation, do you get this weird tingly feeling in your nutsack?”

“What the fuck?” I start laughing.

“Yeah, you do.” Nicoli leans back. “And that tingly feeling, dear brother, immediately has you paying more attention to the conversation.” He shrugs. “Always refer to a man’s balls if you want to be taken seriously.”

“Sometimes, I wonder how I survived sharing the same uterus with you for nine months.”

“We survived because we have gigantic-sized balls.” He winks. “Your balls tingly?”

“Fuck off.”

Nicoli laughs, then slams back the rest of his whiskey. Bastard. I envy his ability to crack a joke to lighten the mood in any situation, no matter how high the pile of shit we replace ourselves in.

“To answer your question,” I clear my throat, “Gian and Saint don’t want a hand in any Dark Sovereign business just like we don’t want anything to do with theirs. Our meeting in Rome confirmed as much. We don’t get our names mentioned in the same conversations, but when the day comes that merging our family names is warranted, it’s an avenue all three of us are willing to take.”

Nicoli sets down his glass and studies me for a moment, every trace of mischief erased. He doesn’t have to say a word because I already know what his silence is saying.

“I want him and Ricardo out, Nicoli.” I confirm what he’s thinking. “And I don’t plan on taking my time to get it done, either. I want them out and on their asses with not a dime of Dark Sovereign money in their pockets.”

“We’ll get it done,” he assures me. “But right now, we need to focus on catching whoever the fuck this psychopath is killing our girls.”

I let out a heavy sigh, hating the reminder of the shitstorm we still have to deal with. We’re nowhere close to figuring out who this fucker is and why he’s been going around killing our girls, slaughtering them like pigs. Cut ears, sewn-shut mouths, and crosses shoved inside the victims—it’s like the goddamn Antichrist has been set free at our front door, and he wants to start the apocalypse in our back yard.

I sit back down, leaning my elbows on my knees. “Tell me you got something while I was gone. Anything.”

“No, man. Nothing.” Nicoli’s expression is somber; he’s just as frustrated as I am. “Honestly, I don’t think we’re going to get any closer to catching this fucker while our clubs are closed.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that as long as he has no reason to come out of hiding, he ain’t going to leave us any breadcrumbs to follow.”

I pull my palm down my face. “Are you suggesting we reopen our clubs and hope he comes back?”

“It’s fucked up.” Nicoli loosens his tie with a yank, unbuttoning his collar. “But if we want this son of a bitch caught, we’re going to have to take the risk. You know that as well as I do.”

“Yeah.” I let out a breath, leaning my head back against the edge of the couch, staring at the coffered ceiling, my insides heavy. “But I don’t like it. I don’t want to risk anyone else getting hurt by this fucking psycho.”

“You and me both, but what other option do we have? This fucker ain’t coming out to play while we keep the playground locked.”

“Fuck.” I lunge to my feet, frustration and anger bubbling like poison in my veins, and I replace myself wanting to go back in time. Wanting to go back to yesterday when Leandra and I were swept up in the magic of Rome, pretending like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Now, we’re back here, and it feels like we never left.

I walk up to the window and unlatch it before opening it. Cold air floods inside, and I can smell the rain in the distance. The gray sky will soon be a tapestry of black as the sun sets. Somehow it feels like the darkness will be heavier tonight. Thicker. A mantle that would smother everything it touches. That’s what happens when you experience a piece of Heaven only to return to purgatory. The darkness becomes bitter to swallow after you’ve had a taste of the light.

Everything feels wrong. I should feel pride and confidence upon taking my father’s place, but instead, there’s this crushing weight that accompanies the flashes and images of the two women whose bodies had been brutally mutilated. Women who were under our protection. Whoever this fucker is, he’s somehow managed to drape darkness over this family, over our empire, and now, instead of walking with pride, we’re all walking on goddamn eggshells while we scatter to keep him from striking again.

“This is bullshit,” I mutter, closing the window.

“Which part?”

“All of it. This is our territory, our world.” I turn to face my brother. “We rule here. Not some twisted fuck who needs his spine torn out. I will not let this fucker dictate our every move while he hides in the shadows like a goddamn coward.”

His dark brows curve upward, and he places his hands in his pockets. “Business as usual?”

I nod. “Only this time…we catch this fucker.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Nicoli opens it. “Gabriel King.” Nicoli glances at his Rolex. “Painfully punctual as usual.”

“Nicoli.” Gabriel strolls in as my brother stands to the side. His height is imposing, his stare piercing, and presence forceful. He arches a brow when he sees me and approaches with his hand extended. “Alexius, I didn’t expect to see you here today. Aren’t you supposed to be in Rome still?”

I shake his hand. “We just came back this morning.”

“You’re jet-lagged, and already it’s back to business as usual with you.”

“No rest for the wicked.” I grin. “Whiskey?”

“Always.” He unbuttons his pristine slate-gray suit jacket before taking a seat. Thick, dark, salt and pepper hair is neatly styled, his jaw cleanly shaven, his expression one of controlled serenity. As a man of immense wealth, Gabriel King is one of our elite clients and has been for years, using Myth for his private parties fitting for a man of his...tastes. Together with a select few, Gabriel hosts indulgent events of the forbidden kind, and discretion is the only currency he’s interested in when it comes to attendance.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” I ask, handing him his glass before taking a seat across from him.

His throat bobs as he takes a sip, closing his cobalt-blue eyes as he appreciates the smooth taste of the alcohol. “First, I’d like to offer my condolences on your father’s passing.”

“Thank you.” I lean back. “It hasn’t been easy, but knowing he’s no longer suffering has given us some comfort.” I shrug. “Business-wise, it’s been quite the adjustment.”

“I can imagine.” He places his whiskey glass down on the side table. “Which brings me to the reason I’m here. I know Myth has been closed for business temporarily, and I would like to know when you’re planning on reopening your doors again?”

Nicoli sits down next to me. “You getting a little restless, King?”

He smirks. “You could say that. It has been a while, and my associates and I are eager for things to—you know…return to normal.”

I nod. “Understandable. As a matter of fact, Nicoli and I were just talking about Myth and that it’s time to reopen our doors. Business as usual.”

“Well then, that’s great news.” He takes his glass and savors another taste. “I can go ahead and make the necessary arrangements for our next event to take place in two weeks?”

“You can.” I tilt my glass in his direction. “Myth’s doors are always open for you and your associates.”

“That’s good to hear. Thank you, Alexius.” He slams back the last of his whiskey, stands and buttons his suit jacket. “Will you be joining us?”

Gabriel’s parties are the best of its kind; a night of sin and wicked pleasures most can’t even imagine, exceeding the fantasies of those who have the privilege to attend. Under normal circumstances, I would jump at the invitation, but given how my life has changed since replaceing Leandra, my attendance at these events has now ended.

“Thank you for the offer, Gabriel.” I stand and straighten my suit lapels. “But I’ll have to decline respectfully.”

“Wife?” Gabriel eyes me with curiosity, yet there’s a level of understanding in his gaze.

“Indeed. A lot has changed in my life.”

“Understandably so. Well,” he reaches out, and we shake hands, “let me know if you change your mind. Your wife is more than welcome to join the festivities.”

My cock instantly reacts at the thought of Leandra joining me at one of Gabriel’s lascivious affairs. If our night at Mito indicates how extraordinary it can be between us in an environment where nothing is taboo, a night at Myth with Gabriel as the host would be mind-blowing.

“You know, Gabriel. My wife and I might just take you up on your offer.”

“Fantastic. Just say the word, and I’ll make sure I have some special arrangements in place for the two of you.” He turns to face Nicoli. “You, Caelian, and Isaia are welcome as well.”

Nicoli stands. “I accept. Unlike my brother, I’m not married or pussy-whipped with my dick in a twist, so I’ll definitely be there.”

Gabriel snickers. “Good. Well, thank you for the whiskey, gentlemen. Looking forward to our future endeavors.”

Nicoli opens the door for our guest and I watch as Gabriel saunters out. His life is the embodiment of a rags-to-riches life story, going from a poor boy to one of the wealthiest men in America.

“We better catch this fucker before Gabriel’s party,” Nicoli says, closing the door.

I bring my glass to my lips, appreciating the oaky aroma of the whiskey. “Don’t worry, brother. We will. Soon.”