Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 356

Chapter 356: Stay With Me

"I have never had any doubt," she said softly, "as to how much you love me, Massimo. But I was never meant for you," she said. "Never."

Massimo gave a derisive snort, low and bitter and aching all at once. "Never?" He refused to accept even now, after all the years and all the damage and all the proof life had handed them. He caught hold of her and pulled her close.

The kiss was hard at first. It carried grief and anger and love worn down. When Massimo felt no resistance, the force of it changed. Softened.

When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to look at her, his hand still holding her close.

"Never?" he asked again.

That was all. Then he kissed her once more. Carol had always known this could happen. That was the real reason she kept her guard up around him, every moment alone with Massimo treated like a risk that needed managing. He had always been dangerous to her, not just because of the life he lived, but because no amount of distance had ever fully killed what lay between them.

And God help her, she had loved the man even across oceans. Loved him from a foreign city where she had tried very hard to build a life untouched by him. Loved him through anger, through silence, through the long ache of knowing exactly why she had left and still missing him anyway.

So when he kissed her now—grieving, broken, smelling of whiskey—she could not pretend surprise. Only weakness.

Massimo shifted off the sofa and onto the floor in front of her, closing whatever little space remained between them. "Stay with me," he murmured against her lips after a moment. "Stay, Carol," he whispered. "Please, stay."

The plea hit somewhere deep inside her. Carol closed her eyes, fighting for breath, for reason, for the version of herself that had learned how to walk away.

"I can’t, Massi," she said. "But if you ever want to come to Singapore for a booty call..."

Massimo laughed, a tired, disbelieving sound, dragged out of him. "We are too old for booty calls, Carol."

She lifted a brow. "We are too old for this life you live, and yet you live it."

That wiped the laugh right back off his face.

"I can’t leave just yet," he said. "Luca is busy with New York. There is no one to leave Italy to."

The same old chains...

"I can’t stay either," she said. "I cannot do it. I’m not strong enough."

That was the truth of it. Not that she didn’t want to. Not that the pull between them had faded. But that staying meant being swallowed whole by a life she had already bled to escape once.

Massimo seemed to understand enough to stop arguing for a moment. He kissed her forehead first. Then one cheek. Then the other. Then the corner of her eye.

When he kissed her lips again, it felt like one last kindness. He drew back once more, his hand still resting against her face.

"You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?"

"I have to—"

"Fuck it," Massimo muttered. He pulled her down with him onto the carpet, and to Carol’s absolute horror—a laugh burst out of her. A bright, helpless giggle, ridiculous and girlish and completely unsuited to a woman with grown sons and decades of emotional damage.

"Massimo!" she hissed scandalously.

He was already fumbling with the buttons of her blouse.

"You are drunk," she informed him.

"my taste remains excellent." His mouth found her again. For a few stolen moments, they were just Massimo and Carol.

And the rest of the world slipped blessedly out of focus.

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