My father is dead. I am the head of the Gallo Empire. Now I must return to the place where I met the woman who became my wife.
Cyprus hasn't been my home in over a decade. Standing on this unhallowed ground feels foreign. As do the capos who eye me with mistrust and disdain. But with Willow by my side we will conquer this place as we have our home territories. With her by my side, I can do anything.
Until the women who mean the most are stolen from me. From my house.
Willow has always been the one person who can calm me. Stop me before I go too far. Without her, my fury reigns.
My enemies will know no peace.
Their houses will burn as they have shattered mine.
I am Raphael Gallo. They will kneel before me.
Be Warned: menage sex scenes, BDSM, anal sex, public exhibition
“Tonight has been difficult, and I won’t be gentle with you,” I warn her softly. Willow’s head tips back, exposing the pale column of her throat to me. My cock thickens rapidly, and I force my breaths to be even.
“But I promised you a present. Are you ready for that?”
She pants a little, her lips parting in a way that makes me want to use her in front of everyone. “Here?” Her eyes widen with a dual shot of arousal and fear. “Rafe?”
Her gaze flickers around the room, and I know what she’s thinking.
Our first encounter here was a one-night stand.
The second night… she wasn’t only mine.
I nuzzle her throat, her shiver rippling violently through me. “Are you saying no, my Raven?”
She shakes her head, whispering, “Please.”
I gesture to the silhouette lingering beyond the shadows.
His smile sharpens as he runs his eyes over Willow and holds out his hand. Though her nerves are rioting, she rises with the grace of a queen and the trembling courage of the girl I first took here.
Together, we guide her into the darkened room.
No lights. No sound. Just her breath, shallow and fast.
She reacts to the sensory deprivation beautifully. Her lashes flutter closed, and I tie the silk across her eyes. I smooth her hair, taking my time. Then I step back and let her tremble for us.
Luca circles her, blades flashing at his wrist—not to cut, but to tease. The tip of the blade drags down her spine. Just a whisper. Enough to make her gasp.
“Stand still. I don’t want to... slip,” he says, voice low, dark.
My Raven doesn’t run.
She stands there for us—naked, trembling, perfect.
“Good girl,” I murmur, stepping behind her. My fingers trail down her sides, Luca’s blade gliding along her thigh.
Fear. Anticipation. Trust.
We’re going to ruin her.
And she’s going to thank us for it.
