expensive lust

The city that never sleeps stretches out below me, glittering with a deceptive kind of beauty. From my vantage point on the rooftop of a crumbling apartment building, I watch as the last rays of sunlight dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of fire and blood. It’s a fitting omen for the night ahead.

It’s been almost a week since Aurora walked into our meeting and proved herself in a way that left even the most hardened men in my ranks wary. Her plan to cripple the Agostis was ruthless, methodical—genius, really. Since then, we’ve spent our nights gathering intelligence, strategizing, preparing for this very moment.

Now, as I stand here, I realize something unexpected. I’m ready for this to be over—not just because I want victory, but because I want to go home to my wife. That thought alone should be unsettling. This life, this chaos, used to be what made me feel most alive. The thrill of wielding power, crushing my enemies. But now… now I feel something else entirely. When I have Aurora in my arms, when I’m buried deep inside her, I feel like I’ve found something I didn’t even know I was searching for.

I intend to get back to her as soon as this night is over.

A sharp gust of wind cuts through the stale air, carrying the distant echoes of the city’s unrest. Below me, my men are waiting. Poised like wolves in the darkness, armed to the teeth, ready to strike. Across the boroughs, other squads are lying in wait at different targets, a synchronized attack meant to crush the Agosti empire from every angle.

I exhale slowly, feeling the crackling energy in the air, the anticipation thrumming through my veins. The night is alive with tension. Soon, it will be alive with something else entirely—violence, bloodshed, the kind of ruthless retribution that leaves no room for survivors.

I move.

The descent down the service stairs is silent, every footstep measured. When I reach the ground floor, Nico is already waiting. A single nod is all it takes.

Then we unleash hell.

The first gunshot splits the night like a crack of thunder, and chaos erupts around us. My men surge forward, kicking in doors, dragging out the rats that have infested these streets for far too long. The air is thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and blood.

“Lock down this hallway,” I command, my voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “No one leaves.”

There’s no hesitation. My men obey without question, their loyalty running as deep as the blood we spill.

Shots ring out in the gloom, bullets finding their marks with ruthless efficiency. My gun is an extension of my will, and I wield it without mercy. The Agostis’ men fall one by one, their bodies collapsing into the filth they helped spread through this city.

By the time Nico calls out, “That’s the last of them,” the floor is littered with bodies.

I step over them without a second glance, my mind already moving to the next phase.

“Burn it all,” I say.

Flames lick at the sky, painting the night in flickering shades of orange and red. The fire consumes everything—the drugs, the money, the very foundation of the Agostis’ trade. By sunrise, there will be nothing left of their operation here.

I should feel satisfaction. And I do. But it’s tempered by something else—a growing impatience, a need to be somewhere else. With someone else.

Turning away from the destruction, I head for the car, but something catches my eye.

Movement.

A sleek black car rolling toward us, too slow to be a mere passerby, too deliberate to be a coincidence. Beside me, Nico stiffens.

“Lucian,” he mutters. “That’s Luca Agosti in the front seat.”

The thrill of the hunt surges beneath my skin.

I don’t hesitate. I raise my gun and fire, the sharp crack echoing through the street as the bullet shatters the windshield. The driver jerks, loses control. The car veers wildly before slamming to a stop.

The door swings open.

Luca Agosti stumbles out, disoriented, panicked.

I stalk toward him, slow and unhurried, savoring the way he scrambles back like a rat caught in a trap. He tries to crawl away, but I don’t let him get far.

A single shot to the knee.

His scream tears through the night, raw and desperate.

I step closer, pressing the heel of my boot against his bleeding leg. He gasps, his hands clawing at the pavement.

“Well, well,” I murmur, my voice cold, almost amused. “You sure picked the wrong night to be in the wrong place, Luca.”

“Stop! Please!” he cries. “I haven’t done anything—”

“Boring.” I roll my eyes. “You can do better than that.”

His breath comes in ragged gasps. “I was just here to collect a payment—”

I press down harder, cutting off his words with a pained whimper.

“There’s nothing left to collect,” I tell him. “I’m burning your empire piece by piece.”

Luca’s face drains of color. I crouch beside him, lowering my voice to a whisper.

“Your cousin shouldn’t have made a scene at my wedding,” I say. “Or lit up my warehouse.”

A dark chuckle rumbles in my chest. “That left me in a bad mood.”

I glance at Nico. “Tie something around his leg. I don’t want him to bleed out before we get something useful out of him.”

Nico nods and moves to follow my order, while I take a step back, looking down at Luca.

He’s trembling, his once-expensive suit ruined, his expression one of pure, helpless terror.

I watch him for a moment longer, then turn away.

I have what I came for.

And now, I have a reason to go home.

Dump Luca in the barn and have someone stitch up that bullet wound.

Despite the lingering adrenaline, the aftermath of tonight’s events is beginning to set in. My body aches, muscles tight with exhaustion, and the sting of fresh cuts lingers beneath the grime and sweat coating my skin.

Still, there’s only one place I want to be right now.

When I push through the front door, I don’t expect to find Aurora waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Her face is pale, her shoulders stiff, but the moment she sees me, relief washes over her features. Something tightens in my chest at the sight.

“You’re back,” she breathes.

She moves before I do, launching herself into my arms. I catch her easily, burying my face in the crook of her neck and inhaling the soft, familiar scent of her skin. It soothes something deep inside me, though I wince when I realize I must reek of blood, sweat, and filth.

“Relax, principessa,” I murmur, cupping her face and brushing my thumbs over her cheeks.

Her lips curve slightly at the nickname. “Did you do it? Did you get them all?” she asks, voice quiet but firm. “Did our people make it out okay?”

I nod, watching as tension drains from her. “Everything went off without a hitch. We cut them off at the knees. The plan was flawless.”

Aurora exhales slowly, steadying herself. And then she smirks—chin lifting, eyes flashing with something fierce. “Perhaps now you’ll ask for my input a little more often.”

I stiffen slightly at the thought. Sharing my power, ceding even a fraction of control to another, has never sat well with me. It goes against every instinct I have as a don.

But looking at her now—strong, proud, unshaken—I can’t deny that she’s earned it.

“You might be right,” I admit, the words tasting foreign on my tongue.

Her lips twitch. “Well, that’s a first.”

She barely has time to react before I sweep her off her feet. “Say that again, piccina, I dare you.”

Aurora lets out a surprised squeal, swatting at my chest. “Lucian!”

I laugh, carrying her up the stairs without an ounce of effort. “You smell like sweat and gunpowder,” she mutters. “Take me upstairs, husband. You need a shower.”

“Oh? And here I thought you liked me like this.”

“I like you alive,” she counters, amusement flickering in her gaze. “And preferably not covered in blood.”

Striding into our bedroom, I don’t put her down—not even when she protests. Instead, I head straight for the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind us.

“You can’t get clean without letting me go,” she points out.

I smirk. “Watch me.”

Without ceremony, I step into the shower, still fully clothed, and turn the water on. A gasp leaves her lips as the stream soaks us both instantly.

“Lucian!”

“You said I needed a shower,” I remind her, voice laced with amusement. “I didn’t want to put you down in the process.”

She glares at me but doesn’t push away. Instead, her hands move to unbuckle my belt while I tug my soaked shirt over my head. Her robe slides off her shoulders next, revealing nothing beneath, and my pulse jumps.

“Get clean and take me to bed,” Aurora murmurs against my lips.

I don’t need to be told twice.

We take our time—slow, deliberate touches, the steam cocooning us in warmth. There’s no urgency, none of the desperate hunger we usually unleash upon each other. This is different.

By the time we’re dry and shuffling toward the bed, exhaustion settles deep in my bones. But as I look down at her—at the determination in her gaze, the soft pink still lingering on her cheeks—I know sleep can wait.

Aurora has earned herself some worship tonight.

I intend to show her my gratitude with my tongue.

“How many times do you think you can come before you pass out?” I whisper, pressing her into the mattress.

She hums, lips curling. “Only one way to find out.”

And as the night stretches on, I thank whatever force in this world made her mine.