Nino Falcone

Later that evening, I waited for Hope to enter the bedroom. Around 8 o'clock, she walked in carrying a pizza box, dressed in a black and red nightgown. She looked stunning, making it difficult to resist until after dinner. Placing the pizza box on the bed, she leaned over and kissed me, her legs brushing against mine as she sat down beside me. We then began to eat our dinner.

After finishing her meal, Hope headed into the adjoining bathroom to wash her hands, and I followed. Once she dried her hands, I lifted her up and playfully carried her to bed. She laughed and lightly hit my backside. This girl is something else.

I hoped she remembered what I told her about tonight's plans. I carefully laid her on the bed before taking off her panties.

I positioned myself between her legs, eager to taste her. For the next 20 to 30 minutes, I indulged in her, savoring the various sounds escaping her lips as she arched her back off the bed. Once she was spent, I rolled off her and lay beside her, planting a kiss on her forehead. I wanted to convince myself that my actions were merely a facade of emotions, much like when I had convinced myself when I called her my queen earlier in the day. However, the truth remained that it all felt effortlessly natural, unsettling me. I shouldn't be feeling this way about a potential enemy of the Camorra. Yet, despite my internal conflict, I couldn't deny the undeniable pull between us. Perhaps I should have put an end to this after that kiss in the basement, but now, it seemed, it's too late.

She smiled at me before snuggling into my chest.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Mia Regina?"

"Oh, that was an experience unlike any other. It felt otherworldly. I know there are rumors about me that Fina's parents and family spread, but I've actually never been intimate with anyone. In fact, you were my first kiss."

"I suspected as much from how you were blushing. It's surprising that someone who kidnapped me is so innocent."

"I'm not innocent," she protested, a dark expression crossing her face. "Not for things that actually matter in life. I killed for the first time when I was seven. I don't think you can call someone like that innocent."

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became more tense. She shook her head and then smiled at me, asking me to disregard what she had just said. Then, she continued to kiss my nose and gently pecked my lips. She lifted my hand, which was resting on her hip, and began tracing the tattoos on my arm. I felt a jolt when her finger grazed over the scar on my wrist. She must have noticed the tension in my muscles because she immediately moved back up my arm.

"You have all of your brothers' names tattooed on your arm. But why is Remo's name surrounded by fire?" she inquired.

"Because he burned for me," I replied shortly. It wasn't a topic I wanted to delve into.

"Does it bother you that I'm tracing your tattoos? I'm not a toddler like Ava," she asked, her movements coming to a halt. I missed the gentle touch of her fingers as they moved across my scarred arm.

"Of course not. I don't mind," I replied. Her fingers continuing to trace the tattoos. As her hand moved to my chest, she explored the tattoos there as well.

"Do you have any other tattoos besides the ones on your wrists?" I inquired, gesturing to the ink that read 'H.O.P.E' and 'Hold on pain ends' beneath it. On her other wrist, 'Nightingale' was elegantly scripted.

"Yes, I have one on my back. Perhaps one day you'll see it," she teased.

I longed to discover every part of her, embracing both her joys and her sorrows. It shouldn't have been this way, but it was. So, what could I do?