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

It’s raining again tonight.

The view of Brooklyn outside the window looks like a vast, moody canvas brushed with diffused blue and gray strokes.

I roll the glass of single-malt whiskey between my palms. I’m nursing it alone on the living room sofa.

I don’t like to drink alone, but some days demand it.

I needed something strong. Something that would burn as it went down my throat.

There was another Bratva soldier today, and Alessio and I spent eight hours interrogating him. Alessio’s convinced the guy knows the location of one of the pakhan’s weapon storage facilities.

The fucker’s tough. He wouldn’t talk no matter what we did to him. We kept him alive. Tomorrow, we’ll try again.

The work is wearing on me. The hard part is that it’s constant. Every day is the same thing. I’m used to more variety. Unless you’ve got a few screws loose in the head like my boss, no one enjoys doing this shit day after day.

I’m sure Gino’s hoping that it’ll break me eventually.

He can keep hoping.

I’m not dragging Blake into this conflict, no matter what it costs me.

“Nero? I didn’t hear you come in.”

My gaze moves from the window to Blake and… Fuck me.

She’s standing across the living room dressed in the sexiest little outfit—a fitted gray blouse, a ruffled skirt that shows off her legs, and winter-white boots with a small heel.

I long for the days when I could just walk over and embrace her. She’d probably stab me if I tried to do that now.

Still, just the sight of her eases some of my tension.

I lift my glass to her and drawl, “Honey, I’m home.” I can’t get over how fucking beautiful she is.

She places her hands on her hips. “You told me you wanted to take me out for dinner.”

I want to do a lot more than take her out for dinner, but I swipe my palm over my lips, and say, “I did.” You refused.

“Let’s do it then.”

I sit up straight. She wants to go out? What does this mean?

I study her expression. She doesn’t seem upset or happy, but there’s a bit of nervousness inside her eyes.

Is she extending an olive branch?

Sometimes, it’s dangerous to hope, but I don’t care. I told myself I wouldn’t rush her to process what’s happened between us, and now I’m tempted to think maybe I’ve done exactly the right thing.

She’s coming to me.

Good. Great. Fuck.

I can’t blow this.

My glass makes a sharp clink as I set it on the coffee table. I get to my feet and walk over to her until the distance between us shrinks to mere inches. “Why the change of heart?”

She lifts her gaze to my face and doesn’t back away. Another small hint I’m tempted to read a lot into. She’s done everything she can to keep her distance from me since we got to New York.

“I’d like a change of scenery.”

I pick up on that familiar vanilla scent. The day I had all those things delivered to her, I made sure they bought the shampoo she used in Darkwater. It’s become my favorite smell.

“All right,” I say softly, already thinking of all the ways I’m going to make tonight count. “C’mon.”

There’s no better place for an intimate date than Velluto.

Excitement buzzes deep inside my belly as we walk into the familiar art-deco building where Chef Lorenzo makes the best pasta in the city. It’s always busy. I wrap my arm around Blake’s waist to keep her close to me. She doesn’t try to pull away. She seems too distracted studying our surroundings to notice my touch. The walls are covered with eye-catching mosaics from the Amalfi Coast.

Tanner, the manager of the place, spots me over the crowd near the front and comes over to greet us. He shakes my hand. “It’s been a while, Nero.”

I’m not sure if he knows everyone assumed I was dead for the six months I was been gone, but I’m guessing no. He’s a civilian, and he’s smart enough not to stick his nose into mob business, even if he regularly hosts our guys. This place is neutral territory.

“Glad to be back. How are the wife and kids?”

“Kids are good when they’re not destroying our house. They’re at that age now. Clara took them to see our family in Bari this week.” His eyes move to Blake.

“This is my wife, Blake. Blake, this is Tanner.”

Tanner smiles and nods in greeting, knowing better than to touch her. “Good to meet you. Give me a moment to get your table ready for you.”

A group of four walk into the already tight waiting area, and I act out of instinct and pull Blake into my chest. I don’t like the thought of her being jostled by anyone.

She feels so right in my arms. Her vanilla scent fills my nostrils once again, and this time, I can’t resist leaning down and pressing my nose against her hair.

I hear her suck in a clipped breath.

A second passes. Then two. She’s not pulling away.

The hope inside of me grows.

“Nero?”

“What, Sunshine?” A host comes over and leads the group to the table they reserved.

“Are you okay?”

I smile against her hair. “Mm-hmm. There are some people walking behind you. You were in their way.”

“Oh.” Her breath fans against my chest. “A big group coming in?”

“Yeah. Like ten people. Just give it a bit longer. They’ll pass.” They’re long gone, but my arm tightens around her waist. I’m enjoying every fucking second of having her this close to me.

Too bad Tanner returns all too quickly.

Damn it. For once, I wish he’d made me wait.

We follow him into the dining room, to my usual table in the charming corner nook where Blake and I will have some privacy. I don’t need to tell Tanner which wine to serve us. He always has a bottle of my favorite Chianti from a small winery near San Gimignano stashed away just in case.

Blake asks for my opinion on what to order, which strikes me as something she wouldn’t do if she was still angry with me.

Fucking hell. I’m going to drive myself crazy trying to read her thoughts, aren’t I? But I can’t help it. I’m a starving man, desperate for a drop of her affection.

We place our orders. As soon as the waiter leaves, Blake pins those mesmerizing blues on me. “I want to do this.”

Elation. Joy. Relief. The emotions rush through me, heady and intoxicating.

She wants to give our marriage a chance. A real chance.

A dazed smile spreads across my lips. “You do?”

“Yes. I want to help Gino Ferraro take down the pakhan.”

“You don’t know how happy that—” Hold up. My thoughts screech to a sharp halt.

I rewind her words.

The surge of disappointment that follows is profound. I’m a little kid again, opening my present at Christmas, and instead of the toy truck Dad promised he’d get me, it’s a fucking pair of socks.

It takes me a moment to collect myself, to find my voice again. “That’s not going to happen.”

“I met with Vita today.”

“You did what? How did you get in contact with her?”

She reaches inside her purse and takes out a cell phone. “She gave this to me last night.”

What. The. Fuck.

Before I can snatch it away, Blake’s already slipped it back into her purse. “As your wife, I should have a say in this decision, Nero. Do you think I like knowing the kind of work Alessio is having you do every day? Do you think I like worrying about what you’ll look like when you come home each night?”

I push down my anger at Vita for going behind my back—I’m going to have to talk to Gino about the move she pulled—and focus on what Blake is actually saying.

It sounds like she wants to do this for my sake.

“Be careful,” I say roughly. “I might start to think you still care about me.”

“I care enough to not want to see you hurt.”

That stupid hope flickers again. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

Her gaze falls to the candle in the middle of the table. “I don’t think I can ever completely forgive you. But I also don’t want to spend the rest of my life angry with you. What’s done is done, and we can’t go back in time and change it. I’m ready to move on.”

I swallow. “What does moving on mean?”

“I’d like for us to be friends.”

My surroundings dim. “Friends?”

“Just friends.”

It feels like there’s a noose tightening around my neck. “And what if I don’t want to be just friends?”

Her eyes narrow. “You don’t have a choice. The same way I didn’t have a choice when it came to marrying you.”

“You want to keep this as some sort of a fake marriage?”

“We started off fake dating. Don’t you think it fits?”

“No, it doesn’t,” I growl. “I made a vow to you, and I take my vows seriously. You are my wife, Blake.” My gaze falls to her ring.

Fuck, I still haven’t gotten her a new one. My wife shouldn’t be walking around with a cheap sterling silver band on that perfect hand.

Her throat bobs. “I know that. But I’m not going to give you my heart again. Not after what’s happened between us. The romantic part of our relationship is over for good.”

I have to take a deep breath to curtail the storm building inside me. Does she think I’ll accept this? I don’t believe this is what she really wants.

“What about sex?” I ask.

“What about it?”

“I presume you don’t plan on having any with me.”

“That’s correct.”

“Then you’d be fine with me seeing other women?” I demand, trying to provoke her.

Two angry red spots bloom over her cheeks. “Sure.” The word is said through gritted teeth. “You can fuck your way through this city, and it wouldn’t bother me.”

“Right. I can see you’re very unbothered.”

She turns even redder, but instead of admitting she’d rather castrate me than see me with someone else, she digs in. “That works great for me.” Her full lips stretch into a thin smile. “Maybe I’ll find a sidepiece as well.”

A deep laugh comes out of me. “You have no idea how this works if you think anyone in this city would be stupid enough to touch my wife. They know I’d kill them, Blake. I might not be a consigliere anymore, but my reputation didn’t disappear overnight. If another man touched you, I would cut off his dick before I killed him and deliver it to you in a box.”

Her mouth parts in shock. Good. She already thinks I’m a monster, so she might as well know just how monstrous I can be when someone touches what’s mine.

There’s a small tremble in her hand as she tucks a strand behind her ear. “That’s a double standard, and it doesn’t work for me.”

I shrug. “Then I guess we’re both staying celibate for the duration of our marriage.”

“Hmm.”

I place my elbows on the table and lean forward. “How long do you think you’ll last?”

“Forever if needed,” she whispers, her eyes angry even as they drop to my mouth.

She’s forgotten what it feels like when our bodies meet. Maybe I should remind her so that she stops talking such nonsense. One kiss would be enough. Would she allow herself to melt for me, or would she stubbornly resist it?

“Why deprive yourself like that?” I murmur. “You know, you don’t have to give me your heart to let me make you come again.”

Her eyes widen momentarily, but she’s quick to school her expression. “I won’t be depriving myself at all. I’ve got two perfectly good hands.”

“Is that how you keep yourself busy while I’m at work?” The thought of her getting herself off makes me instantly hard.

She arches a brow. “Not much else to do.”

“Doubt you’re as good as me, though.”

“Maybe not,” she admits. “But I’ll get better with practice.”

Fuck me. “Why don’t we practice together?”

“What would be the point?”

“I’ll talk you through it. Tell you just how pretty you look with your fingers stuffed inside your dripping pussy.”

She gasps.

A waiter appears in my periphery, and only then do I realize our faces are inches away. Blake makes a small sound of alarm and jerks back into her seat.

The waiter refills our wine. “Your appetizers are coming out now.”

Blake lifts her hair off her neck and fans herself with her palm, avoiding my gaze, but I’ve already gotten what I wanted. A confirmation that no matter what she says, she’s still attracted to me.

When the waiter leaves, she’s once again a picture of composure. “We’ve gone off topic. Let’s get back to where we started the conversation.”

“Gino’s offer.”

“You keep saying you want to protect me. Don’t you think that would be easier for you to do if you had a more senior position?”

“Maybe. But you’re assuming we can accomplish what Gino wants.” I lower my voice. “Deceiving the pakhan and his gaggle of cronies won’t be easy.”

“You don’t think you can do it?”

“I know I can.”

“But you doubt me.”

“You’re not exactly a master of deception, Sunshine.”

She furrows her brow. “Maybe you should have some faith in me.”

“What happened to the utter scorn you have for this entire thing? According to you, the Ferraros are criminals, and thus bad people. Why would you want to help them?”

“I don’t want to help them. I want to help you.” She takes a sip of wine and stares at me over the rim of her glass. “Despite everything, I don’t want you to suffer for the rest of your life. You’re not happy doing whatever it is Alessio has you doing.”

My chest grows tight. “You want me to be happy even after everything I’ve done to you?”

A strange emotion flickers over her features. It almost seems like guilt, but that can’t be right. What does she have to feel guilty about? I’m the one who’s fucked everything up.

“I don’t want you to die. Right now, you’re disposable. Becoming a capo would make you less so.”

“That’s true,” I mutter. “But I still don’t think you understand what you’re signing yourself up for.”

“Vita gave me a good overview. And she said we’d spend two weeks getting ready. If I feel like I’m in over my head at any point, I can pause things.”

The appetizers arrive. I barely taste the antipasti as I think about what she’s proposing.

Getting promoted to capo would be a hell of an improvement to my current situation—that much is undeniable. It would get me out of Alessio’s “palace” and give me power in the Ferraro family. It would get me a crew. A crew whose loyalty I can develop with time and who could help me safeguard Blake.

But the truth is, she’s already safe. The Iron Raptors aren’t a threat here, and the Ferraros have made it clear they won’t harm her.

Going through with this plot against the Bratva would be far more dangerous than leaving everything as is.

Unless the pakhan wins this war.

Unease slips beneath my skin. Is that a real possibility? Perhaps. The Bratva appear to be gaining ground in this conflict based on the bits and pieces I’ve picked up from Alessio. Gino and Vita wouldn’t have come to us for help if they had other options, would they?

But Blake doesn’t want to do this to help the Ferraros win a war.

She wants to do this to help me.

And that makes me think there’s still hope for us, no matter what she says.

I miss her.

I want her.

Not as a fucking friend. Just as fucking mine.

She stares at me expectantly, waiting for my answer. There’s a determined glint in her eyes. She wants me to say yes.

Maybe this is how we’ll fix the rift between us. By working together. By learning to trust each other again.

And it’s that thought that makes up my mind. “Fine. We’ll do this. But we have to—”

“Be a team. I know. Vita already gave me the pep talk.”

“And I will end it immediately if it feels like we’re getting too close to the fire,” I warn. “I will not risk your life for the Ferraros, Blake. You have to swear you’ll listen to me.”

She nods. “Okay.”

We wrap up the dinner and step outside. The rain’s slowed to an annoying drizzle. The valet’s busy with a Bugatti that just pulled up to the curb, so Blake and I wait under the awning.

When the valet opens the passenger door, a familiar flash of red catches my eye.

Hold on a sec, that Bugatti looks familiar too…

A woman climbs out of the car and hurries toward us, trying to escape the rain. Her eyes are on the ground, but as she steps under the awning, those green orbs snap right up and land on my face.

Cleo Messero’s lips part. “Nero?”