𝐅𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 | ✎

𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

I GENTLY nudge my sleeping wife till I see her starting to waking up. Arya groans. "What now?"

"Good morning to you too." I laugh, watching her try roll away from me only for me to pull her back.

She turns to face me, squinting her eyes suspiciously. "What do you want?"

"You on top." I whisper. By now I'm fully aware that I just can't get enough of her; enough of her attitude, enough of her smile, enough of her body - especially her pussy. Fuck, is it addictive.

"What kind of sex addict have I married?" Arya lets out a muffled laugh as I smile against her chest.

"It's not the sex im addicted to." I reply, wriggling her shorts down slowly while pulling her on top of me.

"Then what are you addicted to, Mr Vitale?" Arya questions, lowering her eyes seductively, leaning down so I can feel the outline of her breasts against my chest.

I pause, wondering if I'm about to make a huge mistake. Then I say, fūck it. "You, Arya Vitale."

*

I quickly snap out of my daze when I feel Marco's questioning gaze on me. Him and I both knew I was never easily distracted. Even I didn't understand how Arya managed to have this effect on me. Or why I enjoyed seeing her flustered when she argues with me? Or enjoy the way she scrunches her nose when she's jealous?

I've lost track of how far we've been driving when we pull up to a tall, office-like building. I don't even remember entering a city centre. Marco exits first, his hand resting on his gun as usual.

He keeps the door open, waiting for me to join him. Once I'm out, I notice the building we're walking towards has four guards stood by the entrance. Their gazes are unwavering until we pass, making them nod briefly.

Heading for the elevator, we enter and immediately click on the top floor. Seconds later, the doors breezily slide open, introducing us to a group of men that are already sat around a large table.

They turn to face us and quickly rise to their feet. I feel someone's glare on me and instantly search for the culprit. My eyes stop searching when I meet Mattia Giordano's gaze.

He tries to hide the hatred in his eyes but I'm quick to catch the sleazy motherfūcker. I ignore it for the time being, waiting for my men to recite our oath as I approach my seat at the head of the table.

The men here consist of the fathers, sons and underbosses of the Five Families.

The Five Families are the founders and backbone of the Sicilian mafia; the Fiorentini's supply and take care of most exports/imports of weaponry and firearms.

The Rossi's are the accountants, making sure we stay out of sight of the law by ensuring our cash flow remains consistent and the blood money earned is hidden.

The Giordano's - useless fūckers - simply monitor our properties and handle most oversea matters, making sure our alliances stay in tact. They're currently working on forming an alliance with the Bratva, but from what I've heard, the Russians refuse to be cooperative.