Will this little truce last? We'll see.
Walking into the reception, we’re announced by the lead singer of the live band and escorted to a sweetheart table at the center of the room. Loud applause and cheers follow us as wait staff ushers us to our seats.Food is served not long after. The menu we picked? Flawless. A plated four-course feast.We start with grilled baby octopus over orzo, sundried tomatoes, feta, kalamata olives, and lemon vinaigrette. Then comes my personal favorite—a honey-roasted fig salad. The main course is braised beef with wild mushroom sauce.My mouth waters just thinking about it. Too bad I can barely taste a damn thing.Because my new husband can’t seem to keep his hands off me.He pulls my chair close, tucking me under his arm, slinging it over my shoulder possessively. Whispering into my hair, Dante murmurs, “Do you have any idea how hard I am right now, cara mia?”His fingers skim my bare shoulders, sending goosebumps racing across my skin.I thank the waiter who places my first course in front of
I can admit that I am rarely at a loss for words. I’ve trained myself to hold my own in a boardroom, a catty socialite circle, and under media scrutiny. It’s a skill I’ve cultivated over a long time.But standing there, seeing that scene in front of me, I have nothing. No words. Not even enough to make my presence known.I see Dante say something to the woman on the floor, but all I hear is a dull ringing in my ears. When she leans forward again, I finally find the strength to move. I back out of the room, quiet as a shadow.I walk down the hallway, not really seeing where I’m going. Not until arms wrap around me and a hand tilts my chin up to a familiar face.“Q! Talk to me, love. Are you okay?” It’s Grayson.“No,” I say simply.There’s nothing else to say.Grayson scans the area, flagging down one of the employees. “Take us somewhere she can sit down.”“Of course, sir,” comes the murmured reply. We're led down a maze of back hallways and into the manager’s office—a surprisingly elega
After walking away from Dante and Pablo, I quickly find Emily and Grayson. If looks could kill, Emily’s glare would’ve had Dante pinned to the floor, bleeding out slowly from a thousand shallow cuts.“I can’t believe he did that. I was rooting for him,” she snarls. “Especially after how he was all over you during dinner!”“Down, girl,” I say, touching her arm and gratefully taking the water from Grayson. I give him a small smile. “It’s my own damn fault for letting it happen. We all know Dante’s reputation. We all know what kind of man he is. I just honestly thought he’d have more class on his own wedding day. Guess I was wrong.”“I still say we cut off his balls and use them as hacky sacks,” Grayson mutters, tipping his champagne flute toward Dante with a smile so fake it could cut glass. “My grandmother can do wonders with a sewing machine.”“He’s not worth it, guys,” I wave it off. “Seriously. No harm, no foul. It just reminds me not to let my guard down. And while he gets to play w
I’m sitting on the couch, suitcases packed and a coffee in hand, when Dante walks out of his bedroom. The housekeeper, Mrs. Hughes, is fluttering around me.“Ma’am, I can make whatever you want, I promise. A breakfast sandwich, crepes, waffles. You need food to fortify you for the day,” she insists.“I promise, Mrs. Hughes, I’m perfectly fine. I never eat breakfast,” I say with a smile, genuinely appreciating her effort.“But Mrs. Luciano—” she starts, and I can’t help but cringe at the name.Dante, who I hadn’t noticed enter the room, interrupts from behind me. “It’s fine, Mrs. Hughes. We’ll be on the plane soon. If Quinn wants something later, she can order whatever she wants.”Mrs. Hughes sighs, clearly disappointed. “Of course, sir. What can I get you this morning?”“Coffee and half a grapefruit. My stomach isn’t quite awake,” Dante replies, earning a chuckle from her.“I’ll pack some of those sausage and egg sandwiches you like so much, sir. And some for Mrs. Luciano?”“Please, ca
We fly on a private Luciano jet to Bora Bora. Our honeymoon destination: Bora Bora One, a luxury resort where the Luciano family has rented out an entire five-suite villa just for us.I tried to convince the Don that it was too much space for just Dante and me. If he was going to rent out so much of the villa, then the whole family should come. At least then, I wouldn’t have to deal with Dante by myself.The Don claimed it was for safety. Two of the suites would house our security teams, and the rest of the villa would be ours. He didn’t want to interfere with “bonding time,” as he called it. For all the talk of business, I’m pretty sure the Don and Emilia are secretly hoping something real might happen between Dante and me.How wrong they are.The entire 18-and-a-half-hour flight passes in silence. I sprawl out on a couch toward the back of the plane, reading and working. I go through:Author submissions for reviewProposals for advertising our signed talentFinal plans for the upcomi
The house is gorgeous. It’s a sprawling, one-story villa right on the beach—five suites, a gym, an infinity pool, even an organic garden for the chef to harvest from. The place is insane.Like I’ve said before, my family is well off and I’ve traveled across the globe, staying in villas and five-star hotels. But this place? It obnoxiously screams Small Fortune. It’s dripping money to the point that I’m afraid to touch anything.“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Luciano,” the concierge, Teva, greets us with a bright smile.“Good morning, Teva. You can call me Quinn,” I say.Dante just grunts. Asshole.“Very good, Mrs. Quinn. Mr. Luciano. The chef is preparing your welcome meal—it’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. That gives you time to freshen up and pick whichever suite you’d like. Of course, there’s the main honeymoon suite, but some couples prefer one of the others.”“You can place Mr. Luciano’s baggage in the honeymoon suite. I’d like mine placed in whichever suite is furthest from tha
The next morning, I plan to go on a snorkeling tour of the Coral Gardens with a group. It’s early, and I hadn’t planned on inviting Dante—he just doesn’t strike me as the early morning type.So I get up around six and do yoga on the beach. It’s calm and peaceful. When I was in college, I spent a summer on the Italian coast with a friend and did yoga every morning right on the sand. It’s one of my favorite memories. The sound of the waves, the heat of the rising sun, the call of gulls, the scent of salt and sea spray—it grounded me.I’m finishing my last sun salutation when Dante jogs toward me from down the beach. Huh. Guess I had him pegged wrong if he’s already up and gotten a run in this morning.“Buongiorno, wife,” he says, grinning.I squint at him through the early rays of sunlight. “Wife? Really?”“What?” He flashes a panty-melting smirk. “You are my wife.”I sigh and roll up my mat. “We’ve been over this, Dante. We’re only married on paper. Just call me Quinn.”He hums thoughtf
The water is warm and a beautiful opaque azure blue. It’s so quiet and peaceful beneath the surface. Josiah, Dante, and our instructor—a young Polynesian man named Kaipo—are in the water with me, but it’s so still down here, I could easily imagine I’m alone.Sound becomes more of a movement in the water; I can feel when a fish—or one of the men—gets close to me.Rather than traditional snorkeling, Kaipo taught us how to use small air tanks so we could explore for longer. It makes a huge difference. No need to keep surfacing, no need to rush. I can just breathe and drift.I took what Dante said to heart about wearing something he’d jerk off to. I didn’t go with one of my more revealing suits—needed something I could move in without flashing the entire reef—but that didn’t mean I didn’t tease a little. All of my suits show something, and this one? High-cut Brazilian bottoms and a top with just enough coverage over my cleavage… but with a cheeky cutout under the curve of my breasts.When
Hey friends!Thank you so much for reading Yours On the Dotted Line. I hope that you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Here are a couple of announcements/interesting information for you.If you are interested in what I listen to while I’m writing, you can find my playlist “Creative Juices” on Spotify. I love all different kinds of music, so there's a little something for everyone.I write all different kinds of books. If you’re interested, you can find my other books on these platforms:GoodNovel:Trio of Mates Series: 4 werewolf books that take on the idea of what would happen if one of the leadership was gay and couldn’t produce an heir. Lots of very graphic smut. (completed)Love in the Time of Quarantine: 4 short stories that look at what happens when you are stuck with someone you didn’t expect during quarantine. Lots of very graphic smut. (completed)Dissonance and Harmony: The story of a high school girl who has to face her rapist at his sentencing hearing and deal
Bora Bora. Our final night. Our favorite kind of storm.“DANTE!” I scream, my fingers curling into his hair, holding him against me as I ride his face.His mouth is locked onto my clit, sucking and tugging just right, while his fingers curve inside me with that relentless, perfect come here motion.I’ve only ever squirted with Dante—and even then, it’s rare. It takes that crushing, desperate kind of need, the one only he can stir up. It’s different than a typical orgasm—pressure building until it feels like I might break—but the release… God, the release is so fucking good. It leaves me limp. Soaked. Ruined in the best way.He knows what he’s doing to me right now. From the way his fingers stroke my g-spot, he’s trying to make sure I’m blissed-out and limp when he finally fucks me.His moan vibrates through me, and I clench hard around his fingers. I can feel the wave rising—hot and fast and inevitable.My grip tightens in his hair, probably painful by now, but he just groans louder, d
Back in Bora Bora. The water. The fire. The man I love.Dante chases me into the ocean—not that I can get very far. Or want to.He’s stripped off everything, tossing his clothes in a careless heap on the sand. The last thing I see flying is his Versace watch, sailing somewhere in the general direction of his pants.Then he’s sprinting into the water after me.I make it to about hip-deep before Dante catches me.“Fuck, cara mia, you’re so sexy,” he growls, his hands immediately on me. He starts with my stomach—tender, reverent—before sliding down to my ass to yank me against him, then up to my breasts, cupping them through the water. “I need you.”“You have me, baby,” I murmur, teasing. “What are you gonna do with me now that you’ve caught me?”He chuckles darkly. “Anything I want.”His hand fists in my hair, pulling just enough to tilt my head back. Then his mouth crashes onto mine, full of heat and dominance.God, I love when he takes control like this. It melts me, makes me ache to g
One week after the spa day. Four and a half months pregnant.“Mama! I want to go play in the pool! Let me go!”Freddie is squirming all over the place, trying to break free from my arms so he can bolt out the kitchen door into the backyard of the Luciano estate.Okay, I can’t blame him. I’ve been holding him for five solid minutes, not quite ready to let go.“Topina, you have to let him go. We’re going to miss our flight,” Dante murmurs against my shoulder, his breath low and warm, sending a shiver straight down my spine.“You own the plane,” I pout. “What’s the point of owning a private jet if you can’t leave when you want?”I know he’s right, though. I need to let Freddie go.But this is the first time I’ll be away from him for longer than a weekend—and he’s always just been a short drive away, staying with Grayson and Rocco, or Emily and Josiah, or Nonna and Nonno. This time, I won’t be able to just jump in the car if he needs me.I finally let him wiggle free, and he sprints outsid
Four months pregnant. One week from our anniversary.After my spa day with Bianca, I went to Freddie’s preschool to pick him up. He runs straight out the door and launches himself into my arms.“Mommy! Mommy! I’m so excited!” he cries as I catch him and hold him tight.I won’t be able to pick him up much longer. At four months pregnant, my OB-GYN would probably have a heart attack if she saw me carrying him right now. But it’s something I know I’ll miss. I’ve decided to carry him until our anniversary next week—when I hit the five-month mark.Yes, it’s completely arbitrary. But I made the decision. And I’m sticking to it.“Hello, amore. How was your day? What’s got you so excited?” I ask as I shift him on my hip and start walking toward the car.Josiah, standing nearby with Emilio, clucks his tongue when he sees me carrying Freddie. But he doesn’t say anything—smart man. Experience has taught him that arguing with a pregnant woman is a fool’s game.“School was great! Conner found a b
One month later…When I first met Bianca, I thought she was stuck-up, petty, and materialistic. I honestly would’ve bet money that she’d want a black-tie affair—no kids allowed—in the most expensive and exclusive venue in all of New York.Now that I really know her, I couldn’t have been more wrong.Yeah, the girl loves to shop. And yeah, she’s never been spotted without her red-bottomed shoes and a Kate Spade bag. But when it comes to what really matters? Bianca is all about family.“Honestly, Quinn, I’d love to just go down to City Hall with the family and then go out for dinner. But you know Papà won’t allow that,” she groans.It’s been a month since my brother proposed, and despite Emilia’s best efforts to drag Bianca into full wedding-planning mode, she’s managed to dodge every attempt so far.Today, we’re having a spa day. Facials, massages, pedicures, and soon manicures. And while we’re soaking our feet, I plan to get to the bottom of this.It took years for Stefan to get to the
Three years later…“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Freddie! Happy Birthday to you!”My beautiful little boy—Frederico “Freddie” Dante Luciano—is three years old today. We’re surrounded by family, friends, and sugar-high toddlers, standing in a place I never thought we’d reach.Of course, the second we finish singing and Freddie blows out his candles, he immediately shoves his whole hand into the cake and shouts, “It’s chocolate cake! Mommy got me chocolate cake!”“Oh, Freddie! That was for everyone! You can’t put your hands in it,” I scold gently.“You say that like you don’t have two other cakes in the kitchen, cara mia. Let the boy enjoy his cake,” Dante says, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head.“Then you can be the one to put him to bed tonight,” I reply, earning loud laughter from Emily, who’s holding her and Josiah’s two-year-old daughter, Violet.“MAMA!” Freddie shouts, not at all pleased with my attention being elsewhere
Quinn’s POVRocco stares at me, completely gobsmacked. “W-w-what do you mean?”I roll my eyes. “Do you really think Grayson wouldn’t tell me everything? Especially after I caught the two of you fucking in the bathroom! Why are you keeping my best friend a secret?”“I’m not!” Rocco insists—but it’s clear neither of us believes that.I don’t even dignify it with a response. I just fold my arms over my very full boobs and even fuller belly and glare at him.“I’m not ashamed of being with Grayson!” he repeats, eyes wide and desperate. “I just…” His words trail off, like even he doesn’t know how to explain it.I glance around and realize we’re in an office. Thank God. I can’t stand for long without the baby pressing on my hips and making my legs go numb. I grab a chair and sink down, eyes locked on my brother-in-law as he begins to pace.“My family knows I’m gay,” he starts. “I came out to Bianca and Dante when I was fourteen, my mom at fifteen, and the Don when I was seventeen. And surpri
Quinn’s POV“It started right after Dante found you—when we were all meeting up at the hospital,” Grayson tells me.We’re sitting in the front seats of my car. He hasn’t looked at me once since we got in. I can tell he’s worried about how I’ll react to the story.That alone makes me sad. That he thinks I wouldn’t be happy for him. That he doubts I’d be on his side.“At first, we were just at the hospital at the same time. I noticed Rocco took his coffee the same way I did, so I started picking up drinks for both of us. Then he started bringing pastries. One thing led to another… and we ended up in a heavy makeout session, dry humping against the alley wall behind a café.”I blink. “And you weren’t going to tell anyone?” I ask. “Didn’t you think we’d be happy for you?”“It’s not that…” He sighs. “At first, we kept it quiet because of everything going on—your kidnapping, the baby, your dad… We didn’t want to add more chaos. And then it had been so long. We didn’t know how to bring it up.