Dennis fumed, his nostrils flaring around his hot, heaving breaths. I’d never seen him so unhinged, but it was easy to see that there was violence in his blood and an eagerness to sin. I had no doubt he’d committed his own atrocities to get to the top of the legal food chain and I felt absolutely no compunction about taking him down with his own filthy antics.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out, already dialing a number on his phone, probably to find his own lawyer.
Yara and I didn’t leave.
I sat back down and stared at Judge Hartford.
“It would be unfortunate to lose Dennis’s endorsement for Mayor,” I began after a long moment where we sat in strained silence. “I understand it’s been a dream of yours.”
Judge Hartford stared implacably at me.
Yara leaned forward, the picture of powerful elegance. “He wasn’t your only friend, Martin.”
She dipped to reach her hand into her Gucci purse and tossed something thick onto his desk. We watched together as he used a finger to spin the paper bag so the opening was facing him. His eyes rounded at the sight of the stacks of crisp bills inside.
“A little campaign contribution,” I explained with a polite smile. “Politics are so expensive these days.”
“I won’t accept this.” His heavy brow was puckered so tight, it was hard to see his gaze beneath it. “I don’t take bribes.”
“I think we’re beyond that given you didn’t force Dennis to recuse himself or declare a mistrial when you had the chance,” I countered boldly, filled with righteous fury and the calm that came from having all the power.
“What about a nice little endorsement from Governor Mortimer Percy?” I suggested, mentioning Daniel Sinclair’s adopted father. “He’s an old family friend who would be happy to help a seasoned Judge on his was to political success.”
Judge Hartford stared at the stack of bills spilling out of that simple paper bag, the edge of his thumb sliding along the tower.
He was counting.
My blood was so hot it seared through my veins, pumping so hard through my heart I thought it might explode.
The metallic bite of victory bloomed on the back of my tongue.
When Judge Hartford looked up, his heavy jaw was tight with resolution. “When can you make the introductions?”
Twenty-Nine
Dante
Free.
Libero.
Judge Hartford had returned to court looking mighty and solemn, Midas passing judgement at a tribunal in the Underworld. He knew I was guilty of crimes he had no evidence of and he was loath to see me walk away a free man, but in the end, his greed won out.
And he declared a mistrial.
I had Elena in my arms in a heartbeat, one hand fisting too hard in her lush hair, the other pressing her lower back to bring her hips flush against mine.
I kissed her like I was drowning because after a month without her lips on mine, her scent in my nose and that long body pressed to mine I felt like I was dying.
I drank from her, crushing out lips together so tightly I couldn’t breathe. But we didn’t need air. Everything I needed was in this woman. In her grace and immutable strength, in her loyalty and her undying love. In her willingness to do anything to see me free.
“Sei magnifica,” I rasped against her lips as I dragged in a deep breath. “You are so fucking magnificent.”
She laughed, her hands threading through my hair, stroking almost manically like she couldn’t get enough of the feel of him. “I feel magnificent because you’re free. We’re free of this.”
“Because of you.” I kissed her again, hard enough to bruises, secretly hoping it would leave a stamp of my possession in its wake. “My hero.”
She laughed again, tipping her head back so all that red hair went cascading over my arm and down her back. I stared into her face, blinking at the sheer beauty of her joy as it moved through me and tangled with my own keen happiness.
Around us, the clack and click of shutters sounded like crickets in a field.
“Ti amo, lottatrice mia,” I said each word like a vow.
“Ti amo,” she responded instantly, before pulling my head down by my ears so she could kiss me herself. “Chi vuole male a questo amore prima soffre e dopo muore.”
Whoever is against this love, suffers and then dies.
I growled as I sealed out lips again, eating the victory off her tongue.
We were so close to whatever kind of happily-ever-after two anti-heroes in love deserved.
Two villains down––Rocco Abruzzi and Dennis O’Malley––, and one to go.
I fucked her in the car.
It didn’t matter that Adriano was driving and would clearly hear what we were doing in the back of the Town Car. It didn’t matter that the windows were tinted, but anyone passing by might catch a glimmer of sweet golden flesh or raspberry nipples.