His Mafia Prince
Chapter 237: If Begging Is What You Desire

Chapter 237: If Begging Is What You Desire

(SASHA)

I have a hazy sensation of being half-carried, half-dragged back up the stairs by my uncle on one side and Tyler on the other, neither of them saying a word, just breathing heavily until they get me back into bed.

Marco is the first one to speak when I open my eyes again and take in the two of them. "Sasha, Sasha, Sasha." he mutters, shaking his head.

Even under the ravages of time and scars, his face bears the same expression it always used to when he cleaned up after me. He spent his whole life doing it, right up until he was ordered him out of the city, and he’s still just as disappointed in me. Just as worried.

I want to apologize, but my agony is too intense to do anything except lie there and outlast it.

Marco murmurs something to Tyler and leaves the room. Tyler comes over to sit on the bed next to me. I lie there for a long time until the tide of torment recedes, until I can grope across the bed for Tyler’s hand. He lets me take it.

"Are you alright?" he asks in a low, steady voice.

"Yeah." My voice is a croak.

"Okay. Marco’s going to call Darla over here to check on you. In the meantime, you can explain to me, your long-suffering husband, what the actual fuck you thought you were doing, prancing down the stairs like that on your own?"

His voice gets louder and louder until he’s just a decibel or two under shouting, and he goes on.

I stay quiet and let him chew me out, not that I have much say in the matter. I’m still woozy from the pills I took after I heard voices from downstairs and realized who was at the door. They knocked off the edge of my pain long enough to drag myself up, pull on a robe, and act as though I was fine while I walked down those stairs.

But I think I might have wrongly estimated the dose, because reality is fuzzy around the edges right now, blunted.

"Sorry," I slur at last, when Tyler goes quiet again.

"Why?" he demands.

"Why in the hell would you pull a stunt like that?"

I’m floating and comfortable. I don’t see why I shouldn’t let Tyler in on my thought process, if he wants to know so badly. "Because the only thing men like Alvarado and Castillo understand is strength."

"You said it yourself, they’re your closest allies."

I laugh at that, a long giggle. Mother Mary, I think I’m high. "Don’t you believe it, angel. They might look friendly, but I trust them no further than I’d trust the Irish." I grope for his hand again. Somehow I seem to have lost it. "And you know it, too. You know it as well as I do."

After a pause, Tyler snuggles down next to me, his warmth glowing next to me. From the corner of my eye he seems all golden-red, a little campfire in the cold darkness of my life. "I do know that," he acknowledges. "But I don’t want you killing yourself just to prove a point."

Fondness blooms, chasing away the last of my pain. Tyler and I are a team. Have been a team since I pulled my head out of my ass after our marriage—his words—and started taking him seriously.

But there are some things we will never agree on. Some things he will never understand.

The need for me to appear completely indestructible is one of those things. We can have different opinions; I remind myself about this constantly. And I’m much happier keeping Tyler far away from Family business. It’s safer for him that way.

Still, I can’t help wishing sometimes that he could understand my actions better than he does. But...there is one time when we always understand each other fully.

The shriek in my nerve endings has faded to a mere ache, and Tyler is close, his scent tickling my nose. I reach out for him, my hand trailing up his hip, down again, between his thighs... Where he traps it by squeezing those thighs together.

"Behave," he murmurs, amused.

I want to tell him I’ve never behaved well when it comes to him, but there’s a knock at the door, and Fabio murmurs something through to us.

"What did he say?" I mumble.

"Darla’s on the way," Tyler tells me. "And don’t groan like that. She’s taking leave of absence from the hospital a day early because of that stunt you pulled this morning, so you have to be nice to her."

I suppose that seems fair.

I consult with Darla who considerably tones down her chirpy side when she’s alone with me.

I appreciate that. I think she can see it would only irritate me. All I want from her is her skill, her ability to get my body functioning at peak performance again as fast as possible.

She declares that I need a further few days to recuperate before we can make the journey to Marco’s.Tyler and Marco seem surprised that I agree, but they certainly don’t argue.

I spend the rest of the day resting in bed. My meals are brought up by Fabio on trays, and I even say thank you.

The fact is, I trust expertise, and Darla has it—in this area, anyway. She even seemed to enjoy her work. After she left the room this morning, I overheard Tyler apologizing to her that I was such a challenge.

"That’s exactly what I’m looking for," she replied. "A challenge. It’s why I agreed to take this job."

I liked that when I heard it. I enjoy a challenge, too. However, there’s one challenge I am not enjoying at all, and that’s the way Tyler heads me off at the pass again that night. I’m propped up on pillows, slightly on my side, and I motion him into the bed with me. Having my arms around him makes me feel more right than I’ve felt for some time, and I let my hands wander a little.

"Sasha...honey..." Tyler says, gently taking my hands off his body. "We can’t."

"We can." I lean in to kiss him, trying not to wince at the sharp stabbing sensation that runs through my side when I do.

I don’t mind a little pain with sex, but only when I can control it. He allows the kiss, but when I move my hands lower again, he grabs them. "Seriously, Sasha," he sighs.

"I am serious. Haven’t I been good today, like you wanted?"

"Sex is not supposed to be a reward between us, honey."

"But it could be," I persist.

A slow smirk lifts his mouth sideways. "You’re telling me you expect a reward because you refrained from being a dumbass for six hours?"

This is not how I thought things would go tonight, but I’m willing to play it Tyler’s way. "Do you want me to beg? I will, if that’s what you want." He threads a gentle hand through my hair.

"I mean, sure, that would be hot. But Darla said your dick would still be sore from the catheter, so we should skip the sex for a while."

I’m glad I catch the gleam in his eye before he replies, because the idea of anyone suggesting what I can or can’t do with my own dick does not sit well with me. But this, it seems, is a test on Tyler’s part. "As far as I’m aware," I tell him, "your dick is still in good working order."

He chuckles. "Maybe. But I still think we should wait a little. You literally just got out of the hospital, and I...well, my sleep schedule’s all fucked up."

I catch the vulnerability in his tone and think, not for the first time, about how much I’ve put him through over the last few weeks. Over the last few years, if I’m really honest with myself. I kiss his forehead. "Okay. I’ll cool it for now."

The way his shoulders relax and his body curls into mine tells me it was the right way to play it. And the next day, I aim to be the model patient once more. I am obliging and understanding and I don’t complain to Darla about a damn thing, from the sponge bath to the painkillers.

Tyler stays with me most of the day, dozing or listening to music, and visitors to my sickbed have to be vetted by him first. I’m pretty sure Marco has been told not to talk any business with me, and I’m happy to let Tyler have his way until late in the afternoon, when Giulio Giulio presents himself with news.

"Is it really urgent?" I hear Tyler asking him, just outside my door.

"Giulio?" I call out, and he and Tyler fall silent. "Come in."

There’s a long moment before Giulio opens the door and steps into the room, followed by a mutinous Tyler.

"Afternoon, Boss," Giulio says, standing at the end of my bed with his hands behind his back, eyes tactfully to the side. "Baby, I’d like some more of that herbal tea," I tell Tyler, who folds his arms.

We have a short, wordless battle of wills, and then Tyler leaves the room, shutting the door hard behind him. I’ll have to fix that later. For now, I turn my attention to Giulio.

"What’s the news?" Giulio leans forward, resting his hands against the ornately carved foot of the bed, looking more relaxed now that Tyler is gone.

"Luigi checked out that lead on the Irish, but the roaches had scattered. Word is, that’s how they work. Big fucking fireworks, then they’re in the wind like dandelion seeds, doing their own thing until they get called in again."

I think that over for a moment. "Is Luigi here?"

"No, but he can be."

"Get him. I need to speak to him anyway. And after that, Giulio, get hold of all the senior members, along with my brother. Tell them all that I want to see them tonight. And you should start packing. We’ll leave tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Boss."

Giulio was a good choice for Capo, and I’ll reward him on our return. But I’ll need him with me—with Tyler—at Marco’s. Miles will be too busy here with the remodelling my father’s old house, and as for the others... I need them for other purposes.