Antony (15 page)

That wasn’t always pretty.

“Dante, Gio,” Antony said, gaining his boys’ attention.

“Yeah?” his boys asked together.

“Never disrespect a wife. Not yours, or anyone else’s.”

“Never?” Giovanni asked.

“
Ever
,” Dante said for his father.

Valentina fawned over her bleeding husband, crying and going on. Antony suspected Daniel would watch his mouth from then on when he was in Antony’s presence. Frankly, Daniel should have known better. Antony had never stood for that kind of behavior and didn’t mind reminding other made men of the rules.

When one rule in Cosa Nostra was broken, the rest would surely follow.

Everything would simply go to shit, then.

Cecelia waved at the ruined silk napkins, obviously flustered but managing to hide it well. No matter how hard a person tried, bloodstains didn’t come out.

“What did you do?” his wife finally managed to ask.

Antony shrugged. “I’ll buy you new ones. In fact, repaint the whole goddamn room and buy ones to match.”

“Well … all right.”

That was that.

Chapter Sixteen

February, 1994

“Cecelia, could you come in here for a moment?” Antony called out from his office.

Antony waited as patiently as he could until Cecelia darkened the doorway, a duster on her hip and Giovanni under her feet. That kid was a
mamma’s
boy through and through.

Giovanni took his new favorite item from his jeans and flicked his little pocketknife in and out, being mindful that he held the knife properly. Cecelia hadn’t liked that gift all too much, but she didn’t say a word after Antony explained his father giving him one at Gio’s age. Dante had one, too, although Antony found his oldest son was more interested in what his father was doing than what he could do himself.

Nonetheless, Gio knew the rules. So long as he was careful with his knife, he would keep it. If he acted like a little
cafone
, he lost it.

“What do you need?” Cecelia asked.

“What do you like better, Marcello Industries or Marcello Investments?”

“Industries.”

Yeah, Antony figured that.

His businesses had grown from restaurants and clubs, to homes, investment, development, and properties. There was no growth if there was no risk. It was a game Antony was slowly beginning to learn.

But, he wanted to do it the right way, which also meant being a
brand
.

“I mean, investment would work, if that’s what you like,” Cecelia said with a shrug. “But honestly, I prefer Industries. Who knows what you’re going to delve into in the future, Antony. Investments might not work in all cases, whereas Industries covers a broad spectrum.”

“I agree. I just wanted to hear you say it, too.”

Cecelia smiled. “Thank you for asking me.”

“You always tell me like it is.”

“That I do.”

Everyone else but Antony’s boss was too damn afraid to. The only reason why Vinnie did was because the man knew Antony held his respect for Cosa Nostra and the life’s rules above most everything else.

Antony held up two designs that had been delivered to him earlier in the day. “Which do you prefer?”

“Why am I not surprised you had the designs done up with Marcello Industries instead of Investments?”

He laughed. “I told you, I knew what you would say. Which one, Cecelia?”

Cecelia bit her lip. “I don’t know. They’re both really striking. I don’t think you could go wrong choosing either one.”

“I likes the big one,
Papà
,” Giovanni said.

“Like,” Antony corrected. “Why, Gio?”

“Because it’s big.”

Four-year-old logic at its best.

Antony glanced at the bigger design.

Apparently, it was thirty-five-year-old logic, too.

“Yeah, big one it is.”

• • •

Valentine’s Day, 1994

Antony stayed to the shadows of the trees lining their driveway, watching as his wife’s car came to the gated entrance. He’d put the security system in a year or so ago as a precaution. They probably didn’t need it, but God save the poor soul who managed to get through it.

Cecelia’s car was refused entrance through the gate, like Antony had instructed the guard at the front to do. He chuckled under his breath as Cecelia got out of her car, huffing in that way of hers as the man waved her through the gate on foot.

“This is my goddamn house, you know!” Cecelia scolded the guard.

“I know, Ma’am.”

“Stop calling me that. Do I look fifty to you?”

“Mrs. Marcello, Mr. Marcello instructed me to—”

“Oh, to hell with you
and
Antony.”

Antony barely contained his laughter as Cecelia started her trek up the driveway in heels and a dress. It was a good ten-minute walk or more from the gate to the house. She likely thought it was any other day considering she spent half of it away from home working in that art gallery she loved so much. She probably assumed the boys were home. Dante, from school. Giovanni, from wherever the hell Antony had taken him for the day.

She was wrong.

The boys were spending the day with their grandparents. A break for their parents while Antony treated Cecelia to a private Valentine’s Day. He didn’t get to do these things nearly as often as he wanted. There wasn’t enough time for it, sadly.

It seemed like the older they got, and the longer they were married, more time slipped away. Cecelia never forgot to remind Antony in her own way that she was there, though. He didn’t need the reminders, but he used each and every one of them to give Cecelia his love and attention because if she asked for it, she clearly needed it. He didn’t need to know why she did, he simply handed it over.

When Cecelia was about thirty steps from Antony’s hidden spot, her walk came to an abrupt stop. Flower petals—tulips, her favorite kind—had been scattered over the driveway. If she followed them like Antony hoped she would, Cecelia would find they led to something special just for her.

She followed them.

Grinning, Antony shoved his hands in his pockets and kept to the shadows the trees afforded as he trailed behind his wife where she couldn’t see him. The tulip petals veered off the driveway closer to the mansion and into the slushy February snow on the ground. Knowing Cecelia liked her heels, Antony had cleared a path for her so her feet wouldn’t get cold and wet as she searched for him and her surprise.

As Cecelia slipped around the side of the house, still following the trail, Antony emerged from the treeline. He waited the long minutes he knew it would take for her to reach the back of the house before he jogged the length of the west wing. Coming around the back of the house, Antony found Cecelia where she had stopped at the back of the building that enclosed their indoor pool.

She stood in the middle of a huge square marked off by ribbons. More tulip petals were scattered around her feet.

“What do you think?” Antony asked.

Cecelia spun on her heels, damn near slipping on the snowy ground. “
Mio Dio
, you scared me, Antony!”

Antony laughed darkly. “Where did you think I was?”

“Somewhere, I don’t know … stop laughing at me.”

He sobered and waved at the section of ribbons. “What do you think, is here a good spot?”

Cecelia eyed him curiously. “For what?”

“Well, most people call it a guesthouse, I suppose. But I figured we could call it a retreat for Cecelia that only the most special people get to use when they stay here.”

A wide grin broke out on her face, making Antony’s own grow.

“You’re going to build me a house outside of our house?”

“I told you, a
retreat
.”

“Call a house a house, Antony.”

“Fine. Yes, a house. You’ve been saying you wanted a guest house to go along with the pool, but you need something, too. Somewhere you can hide away from the boys for five minutes. Or me, even.”

Cecelia reached out with her hand and Antony took it in his own, drawing his wife close to his chest. He reveled in her warmth and scent, loving her more. He always loved her more every time he was able to hold her.

“I never want to be away from you,” she whispered.

“So, no retreat for Cecelia, then? I haven’t broke ground, yet.”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

Antony smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

“Why the ribbons?” Cecelia asked.

“Proverbial breaking ground. It’s too frozen right now to stick a damn shovel in.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Spring,” Antony promised. “And you get to design every square inch of it.”

Cecelia’s smile only widened. “You spoil me.”

“I do because you deserve it. Happy wife, happy life, you know.”

Before he could react, his wife leaned up, caught his jaw in her hands, and pulled him in for a searing kiss that instantly had his blood and cock thickening while desires raged. Her hands fisted into his jacket while Antony’s roamed lower on her back until he was palming her ass beneath her jacket.

“Where are the boys?” she asked, breathless and hazy-eyed.

“Away for the evening.”

“I don’t mean this in a bad way, but thank God.”

Antony kissed her again, claiming her mouth with hard strikes of his tongue to hers as her taste intermingled with his. Cecelia didn’t shy away from the roughness of his lips and teeth sweeping over hers as he pushed her lower half into his body.

He wanted this woman to feel what she did to him—what she did for him—everyday, all day.

“Too cold out here,” he heard her mumble against his

“In the house, Cecelia, hurry.”

It took him far too long to get her inside. Cecelia wouldn’t stop touching him. Her mouth kept finding his in the cold air, stopping their trek to the back of the house. By the time he got the back door closed, Cecelia was shivering. Her hands were still wandering, though.

Antony yanked his wife’s coat off at the same time she undid his pants. Cold palms slipped under his boxer-briefs and he jerked at the cool sensation encompassing his hard shaft. Antony ached from the inside out as she pumped him slowly, her grip tightening at just the right spots to make him bury a groan into her neck.

Backing his wife into a wall, Antony placed his one hand beside Cecelia’s head while his other worked up her dress. As she jerked him off, he dipped under her panties to find her wet and hot for him. Cecelia sighed the sweetest, softest sound, her hand skipping in its beat on his dick as he spread the lips of her sex and entered her with two fingers.

Antony didn’t want to waste time. They had so little of it as it was.

“I want you coming all over my fingers and mouth before I fuck you against this wall,
Tesoro
. I want you screaming my name so loud the sound will be permanently embedded in the fucking walls.”

Cecelia shuddered, her hand squeezing his cock harder. “Yeah?”

“
Mmhmm
. And then I want you naked on a blanket in front of the fireplace for the rest of the night. Wine, chocolate, you, me, and nothing but skin. Sound good to you?”

“God, yes.”

“Let go of my dick and let me get to work, then.”

The moment her hand released his throbbing cock, Antony caught Cecelia’s wrist in his palm and pinned both of her arms to the wall. He didn’t just want to taste his wife’s pussy as she came on his tongue, he wanted to taste all of her. Cecelia whined and writhed under her husband’s attention as he kissed, bit and sucked on her neck, over her collarbones and down to where a slight bit of cleavage was exposed from the dip in her dress. Antony yanked on the stretchy material, ripping it and baring more of her skin and chest for him.

Cecelia sucked in a hard breath. “I liked this dress!”

“I’ll—”

“Buy me a new one. Shut up, Antony, and fuck me.”

Antony chuckled. His wife knew him far too well.

He moved the lace cups covering her breasts out of the way, lavishing the same attention on her tits as he had her mouth and neck. Drawing her nipple between his teeth, Antony bit down just hard enough to let his wife feel the sting of the bite and leave his mark behind.

“Love seeing me on your body,” Antony murmured against Cecelia’s skin.

“You’re all over me, Antony.”

Yeah, he sure as fuck was.

Tired of the clothing separating them, Antony helped his wife out of her dress, unclipped her bra to let it fall to the floor, and shed his own clothes as well. On his knees, Antony hooked Cecelia’s leg over his shoulder before laying a soft kiss above the hood of her clit.

“So beautiful,” he told her. “Always,
Tesoro
.”

Cecelia’s fingers found purchase in her husband’s hair as his mouth descended on her sex. He wanted Cecelia’s juices flooding his mouth and her calling his name. It was the best way he’d ever spent a damn evening. Tunneling his tongue between her silky folds, Antony found the wetness he was looking for. She was hot and tart in his mouth and Cecelia didn’t hold back a single sound as his tongue worked between her slit to her clit in fast, harsh strokes. He knew her body well, he knew how to work it the way she liked to get her shaking, crying out, and coming quick.

Keeping up the pace of his tongue, Antony thrust two fingers into her clenching, soaked channel. Her inner muscles hugged him tight, her hips grinding into his mouth and hand as he curled his digits to find just the right spot. He knew when he found it. Cecelia shouted, her pussy clamped down around him, and her clit pulsed under his tongue.

“
Cristo … Antony
!”

He didn’t give her time to recover as she trembled through the orgasm. Antony was on his feet in a second, turning his wife to the wall, and fitting himself between her thighs. Lifting her leg just enough to fit his cock along her slit, Antony flexed his hips once and pushed into heaven with one long stroke.