When He Takes: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 2)
When He Takes: Chapter 16

The plan is simple.

Blake will approach Maksim when he goes to look at an early edition of Pushkin that’s up for bidding in the silent auction. According to Vita, he’s got a fucking hard-on for that book. Vita’s got a friend on the gala’s organizing committee who told her Maksim tried to get them to sell the tome to him outright, but it didn’t work out, so he’ll be salivating over it tonight.

Just like I’m afraid he’ll be salivating over my wife.

One glance at Blake in that fucking dress is enough to turn my brain to mush, and the same is obviously true for every other bastard that’s dared to look at her. I’ve lost count of how many jaws dropped when she walked into the room. I can’t blame them, but at the same time, I still want to kill them all.

All I want to do is replace an empty hallway and have my way with her against a wall. I’d feel better if she had my cum dripping down her thighs while these fuckers stared at her.

We’re at the cocktail reception right before dinner, standing by a high-top table where we have a good view of the whole room.

Blake shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a glass of champagne in her hand. Her gaze darts around the room, looking at anyone but me. She’s avoided eye contact ever since I slipped that sparkling new wedding band onto her finger.

I can tell that she likes it, because she keeps glancing at it.

But I want her to be glancing at me, damn it.

“Have I already told you that you’re stunning?”

The object of my obsession blushes a pretty pink. “Yes. At the penthouse and on the ride over.”

“Ah. Well, a lot could have changed since.”

“Did it?”

“Indeed. Somehow, you look even more stunning now than you did ten minutes ago.”

I swear, there’s a smile tugging on those perfect lips.

Fuck, I’ve missed her. These last two weeks have been hell. Vita Ferraro all but moved into my penthouse, leaving me barely any time alone with Blake. In the mornings, I’d leave before Blake woke up, and when I got back, Vita was there. We sat through hours of planning and strategy meetings, dialing Gino in for some of them.

Given the sensitive nature of our mission, practically no one in the Ferraro clan knows what we’re doing. Not even Cosimo, which is a fucking delight. He’s going to be so fucking pissed when he discovers he’s been kept in the dark. I can’t wait to rub it in his face for the next few years.

Out of the three brothers, only Alessio has been brought into the loop. He knows his parents are keeping me busy, and yet he still puts me through the wringer at work. It’s all part of building my story, but I think the sadistic bastard enjoys it a bit too much.

Put all that together, and I can count on one hand the number of times Blake and I have been awake and alone in the house. And she’s done everything she can to cut even those brief interactions short.

I can guess what’s going on inside her pretty head. She doesn’t like what that one hot kiss in the kitchen revealed—that the attraction between us is alive and well.

I lift my hand and allow my knuckles to graze the underside of her jaw. Her skin is soft and warm. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

“Is there something on my face?”

“Definitely. Eyes I could spend the rest of my life gazing into. Lips I’d really like to kiss. And a mouth I’d love to taste and fu—”

She spins away from me and snatches another champagne glass from a passing tray.

I wipe my hand over my smile.

She’s remembering how fucking good it was between us. She just needs to realize it can be like that again.

If only I can convince her to give our marriage a real chance.

I snake my arm around her waist. “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

“Do you see him?” She swivels her head, pretending to not hear me. “What if he doesn’t show up?”

“That dress fits you like a second skin. Will you let me peel it off you when we get back home?”

“I’m not a piece of fruit,” she grumbles.

“Your pussy sure tastes like one.”

She sucks in a harsh breath and starts chugging her champagne.

I stop her. “Careful. You don’t want to get drunk.”

“Then stop making me need it, Nero,” she hisses. “Whatever you’re doing, that’s enough.”

“Just admit—” I begin, but a familiar face by the entrance catches my eye.

Maksim. And his wife.

I lower my lips to Blake’s ear. “They just walked in. The wife is wearing a green dress.”

Blake gives her half-empty glass to a waiter and throws a discreet glance toward the other side of the room. “Yeah, I see. I recognize him from the photos. He looks older though.”

“Maybe it’s the stress from the last few weeks. The Ferraros have been picking off their vors like flies. The pakhan can’t be happy.”

“Then why does Gino need us if he’s capturing so many of their men?”

“Because the pakhan has a near endless supply of soldiers he can throw at the problem. He imports them from Siberia, where his brother has built a private army.”

Blake arches her brows and shakes her head, her gaze sliding back to Maxim. “I’ll never understand why someone would want to throw their life away by working for someone like that.”

“You’re judging them too harshly. For most, it’s their only chance at a better life. Not much upward mobility in the remote regions of Russia. People do what they have to in order to survive.”

She looks like she wants to debate, but this isn’t the time or place. I press a kiss to her cheek. “C’mon, let’s go to our table. Dinner is about to start. We don’t want them to notice us just yet.”

Blake loops her arm through mine, and we merge with the crowd moving into the room next door.

It’s fun watching her astonishment as she takes in the grand ballroom. The gala is being held in a glitzy hotel called The Admiral. The place is full of crystal chandeliers, marble columns, and Baroque art on the walls. I think I got very drunk in the lobby bar once.

“So beautiful.” Her hand tightens on my wrist, her brand-new wedding ring sparkling in the light. Seeing it on her hand makes my chest swell with pride.

Mine, the caveman inside of me growls.

The tables seat twelve people, so we spend a good five minutes on introductions. By the time we take our seats, Blake looks uneasy.

“I already forgot most of their names,” she whispers to me. “I’m terrible with that. Who’s the woman with the gold brooch in her hair?”

I shrug. “No clue.”

“Very helpful,” Blake mutters as she hangs her purse on the back of her chair.

“These people don’t matter. There are only two we need to pay attention to. They’re three tables to our right.”

Her brows furrow as she searches for Maksim. She confirms she found him with a small nod. “I see them.”

An elderly man in a tux comes up to the podium to deliver introductory remarks about the organization benefiting from the gala—the Wallace Arts and Literature Foundation.

He drones on about the foundation’s beginnings and its accomplishments to date. I genuinely couldn’t care less.

I scoot my chair closer to Blake’s. “Have to give it to Lottie for keeping her introduction short and sweet at the mayor’s Christmas auction.”

“I was just remembering that, too,” she admits quietly. “I’m as nervous now as I was that night.”

“Why were you nervous then?”

She gives me a funny look. “Are you serious? I was convinced no one would bid on my class. That Lottie would have to crack an awkward joke and move on to the next item, and everyone would laugh at me.” She takes a swig of her champagne. “Seems silly in retrospect.”

“Yeah, it is silly. Especially since that class was the highest bid of the night.”

“That was all you.”

“Damn right, it was. And let me tell you something, Sunshine. Anytime you ever donate anything to an auction, you can bet I’m going to win it.” I lean in closer. “After all, that class was exceptional. Worth every dollar.”

A deep blush spreads across her chest before creeping up her neck. Is she remembering that night at Frostbite Tavern and the way she came so beautifully for me?

I shift in my seat. I’m as hard as a rock from the imagery flashing through my mind.

The old geezer on stage finally wraps it up, and a waiter appears to take our drink order.

“I’d like an old-fashioned.” It’s the same drink I licked off her tits that night.

Blake swallows hard. “Water, please.”

The dinner service begins, and I make sure Blake eats her bread and pass her mine too. She needs something to soak up all the champagne she’s had, and the leek soup that’s brought for the first course ain’t going to do it.

She mumbles a quiet thanks.

When she finishes eating, I place my hand just above her bare knee, my pinky lightly brushing her inner thigh.

She glares at me. “Nero.”

“What?”

“Why are you touching me?”

“Because I’m obsessed with you, baby. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

A waiter comes around to take our empty soup plates away. Blake sits there stiffly until he leaves, then she reaches under the tablecloth and flicks my hand away.

“You’re taking advantage of the situation,” she mutters. “If we were here under normal circumstances, I’d throw my wine in your face.”

I grin. “Thank God for abnormal circumstances, then.”

Her expression flickers between bemusement and exasperation, but at least I’ve made her forget about her nerves. As long as she stays calm when she talks to Maksim, tonight should go off without a hitch.

I’m still uneasy about this whole thing, but every time I thought about calling it off, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Yes, there are risks, but I’ve managed far riskier situations as Rafe’s consigliere.

And the potential reward has never been as great. It’s not money on the line or the fucking promotion Gino’s dangling in front of me.

What’s on the line is my and Blake’s future. Working together is how I’ll earn her trust back. It’s how I’ll show her that we’re meant to be.

She leans in. “That kiss in the kitchen shouldn’t have happened. We should have talked about it before we came here to clear up any confusion.”

“Don’t worry. There’s no confusion at all.”

“I think there is. You can only touch me when it’s mission critical, got it?”

“Understood.”

She gives me a wary look. “Really?”

“Yes. We just might disagree what mission critical means.”

She huffs in frustration. “Groping me under the table at dinner, where no one can see, can’t possibly be mission critical. I said I want us to be friends, and I meant— Shit, he just got up.”

My eyes snap to Maksim and Ekaterina’s table. Maksim is out of his seat, heading toward the room where the Pushkin book is on display.

A prickle of unease coasts over my nape.

Blake swipes her handbag from where it’s hanging on her chair. “This is it. It’s just a conversation, right?”

We lock eyes. I force a smile. “Just a conversation. I’ll be there before you know it. You got this.”

She nods, squeezes my hand, and stands up.

As I watch her walk all the way through the room, I have to hold myself back from getting up, going after her, throwing her over my shoulder, and taking her out to the car.

She disappears into the hallway, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. Seconds tick by, each one heavier than the last. I try to focus on the room around me, on the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation, but all I can think about is Blake.

I really fucking hope I’m not making a mistake getting her involved in this.