This summary provides context for a conversation between Falcon and his wife Devin in the early morning hours. Falcon wakes Devin to tell her something important that has happened. Devin is wary, as Falcon's profession in organized crime often keeps her awake at night worrying if he will return home safely. Their conversation touches on Falcon's ongoing infidelity with another woman named Ava, which causes Devin great pain, though she finds it difficult to truly hate Falcon due to her deep love for him. Falcon asserts his dominance over Devin by reminding her that she belongs to him. Their relationship is complex and troubled, defined by both deep love and betrayal.

1. The great love of my life
Author's Note:
This is a separate short story. My goal is to look at the inner workings of why some people stay in
relationships that are clearly unhealthy for them. I hope I have accurately captured the essence of
Falcon as a charismatic and loving Devin in his own way, without necessarily write it as a very
likeable person. And my goal was to capture Devin for her strong will in the cage as it is by its terms.
Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy!
*
Have you ever had the fortune, or misfortune, depending on the angle of crossing paths with one ?
one your heart loves and hungry for so deeply, you will find that voluntarily remain in a situation,
your brain, your friends and your family all scream for you to be in. one you can do it yourself leave
in remembrance of increasing heights you have experienced together to compete at the amazing
peaks of Mt. Olympus ... despite the fact that you have also experienced the lows together equivalent
to the muddy bottom of the river Styx. one better known as salvation, your curse, creator of the
most triumphant moments of his life, architekt your dark days.
Yeah, you know, one ... I take it . Man I laughed, laughed, cried, cried over and given themselves
entirely know that it is part of you, you will never be able to capture. Part of you that you are glad
you trusted him when protecting love him for no other reason than because you can; that the same
part of you will hate yourself later for stupidly put on him while he sobbed over his latest uncovered
infidelity.
I had the honor, fortunately, to meet and take one ordained by God Himself for me. Or
unfortunately, depending on when you ask me. My answer varies according to time of year, when the
month, day of week, or sometimes even at the hour of the day. The great love of my life is Falcon
Delano Bianchi.
And no matter how I convinced my love of Falcon (no matter how much effort I spent trying to
convince Toms doubt on the legitimacy of my love for him and force him to me), right now, between
him trying to wake me at this ungodly hour, and his actions over the last few months, is dangerously
close to making me hate him, I'm teetering on the edge for some time now.
With a muttered prayer to God to strike Falcon on the spot with a crippling case of arthritis, I pull
the sheet over his head for the third time, rolled to my side and present your dull husband back,
hoping that stupid man will take a hint and let me itself. So of course, that pulls a leaf from my hand,
even going so far as to time, as it pulled completely out of bed.
"Up, Devin," he says calmly.
"What the hell is your problem?" My challenge is fiery response. He sat down, I'm forcing the eyes to
focus on the cable box located on the housing of the chrome and black TV stand under Falcon's pride
and glory sixty-five inches flat screen (his pride and glory I found myself tempted too often lately
bore through) . Small mistakes of my head, when darkness recedes and I am able to read the time. I

2. suspect that it's early, but not "It's four in the morning!" soon.
"We need to talk." This reduces to sit on the bed next to me and put his hand on top of my shin. With
the pads of his fingers, draws slow, exciting way up to my thigh, stopping when it reaches the hem of
my shirt.
My body, finely tuned instrument of his willing it is to Thrums in anticipation. Irritated at how easily
causes a reaction, I took his hand. After spending the appropriate time sputtering in disbelief I
choke on the other, "it's four in the morning!"
"Something important has happened." Ignoring my silent reproach that moves his hand on my thigh
again, using fingertips to whisper light, lazy circles on my skin. "It must now be addressed."
"Damn it, stop it." I slap his hand away, he hates his traitorous desire for him. His skin against my
skin, the heady aroma of expensive cologne and masculine musk in the nose, the heat radiating off of
his huge form and its very closeness has always served as the ultimate combination I've never been
able to resist. "And if you understand me ... it's four o-fucking-clock in the morning."
"Yes, Tesoro, I am aware of the time. You founded it pretty tight on me," he says dryly. He flicks the
light placed on the nightstand beside the bed. "But we still need to talk."
"Falcon, I can assure you that there is nothing and I mean nothing , I want you to hear"
"Four in the morning," he interrupted. "If you want to hear what I have to say things are not Devin."
He breathes deeply, leaning against a black microfiber face and his hands behind his head. "Because
you hear regardless. I will speak my piece."
This is the point I started to worry. While nothing said or done something mean is outside the norm,
I can only feeling something is wrong. After seven years of marriage before two years of dating, I'm
far past the point just being able to read only my husband ... I can decipher it. And his somberness
suggests something heavy to weigh on your mind.
My view is rushing through their whole form from top to bottom, bottom to top, satisfying himself
everything is as it should be. Both gunmetal gray eyes surrounded by the most powerful, dark lashes
are still in their sockets, both ears are unharmed, his proud, straight nose is intact, and even his
upper lip, or pleasantly fuller bottom is divided are forcibly opened. Since his palms together,
fingers threaded the current resting place of the head short, curly, slicked back dark brown hair, I
suppose one must not miss. No dark spots indicative of blood mar crisp whiteness of his shirt and tie
appear spotless and no worse for wear except ruin, one end hanging casually over each shoulder. My
heart lodges in the throat as another opportunity arises ...
Scooting to the edge of the bed, takes his pinstripe dress pants covered legs and pulled up next to
me. He tore off his socks, counting toes.
"What is it, Falcon?" My question comes up after I've calmed down, the second number is nothing
wrong with his huge feet. Although his chosen profession keeps us in the most beautiful dresses,
fashionable rides a beautiful house right on the lake, it also keeps me awake most of the night if the
night will finally Night doesn 't make it back home to me . Checking his person for any damage has
unfortunately become somewhat ritual for me, done for mental health in my mind two or three times
a month. Only half jokingly, I add: "It's a nasty thing called conscience bothering you?"

3. Instead of answering, Falcon counter to inquire about your own when trying to massage my back
and I move to the other side of the bed, out of reach. "Why can not I touch you?"
I almost choke on snort of contempt. Has really want to play this game with me right now? He knows
barely legal twenty-one years old why I let him have confidence in me.
Ava Romano. Pure blooded, imported directly from the heart of Florence, able to trace its origin to
the weighted De Medici family, Italian female happily introduced him to his mother, full blooded,
straight from the scariest, most terrifying pits of Hades, hellbitch.
"What is happening Falcon?" My tone is deliberately mocking mask. I stare straight ahead, his eyes
locking on a white sheet lying in the far corner of the room, using it as an anchor. "Sweet little Ava is
not so hot for your touch anymore? She can not expel me home?"
"You're a woman who bears my name, Devin, not her."
"Oh," I chortle, "Now I remember. As appropriate, must be able to forget, whenever you feel like it."
I want to add, I could do the same , but I know better than to give voice to the truth.
"Never forget," said fiercely. "Never."
The pain of thinking about continuing his conquest of me rubbing my chest with a grin. It's a dull
pain that was my constant companion for over three months. Never has deteriorated because of his
hateful mother told me all about the Falcon and Ava, never diminished, simply maintaining its
consistency.
, I think is what makes it that much more painful, .
It's like comparing a one-time occurrence for stabbing a knife into constant pricking needle. First,
while the worse the nominal value has time to heal after it occurred. Like Falcon single indiscretion
with an old friend he had not seen for ten years or disposable slept with a girl from the club whose
name I could not remember later. What happened was, I found that it is so sure that I never run
away to a place where it can not ever follow undertakes no great effort to hide his betrayal, we
moved on.
But the other never has a chance to heal. It remains open so the wound more susceptible to
infections. And that is exactly what is happening to me. Pain is festering in my heart, I ride almost to
the point of hating him.
Almost ... but not quite.
I flop on my back when I wonder why I'm so hard to hate men. Everything about him is disgusting,
really. His blatant involvement in organized crime, allegedly from prostitution to drug trafficking in
the immediate weekly reports on the news about it, in fact the way the dishes of violence (and, yes,
received life or ten, I'm sure), it is despicable creature through and through.
He lost his place against the headboard, Falcon lies down on the bed, facing me, and stretched his
right hand. He feels that part of my side exposed by scrunching up my shirt. The one hand there is
slightly thin fingers, red tape out of my thong.
"Why?" I ask him.

4. "Because I have the ring," his hand moves to grab the left one, which is the object in question into
their line of sight "to the finger for some reason. This ring means I love you, care about you and
adore you, Dev. This means that I can not live without you. This means that life without you is not
worth living. "
"But why can not to himself hate you ?" I am angry. "I should. Really, really should."
"You're absolutely right, you have," he said quietly agrees. He falls silent for several long seconds.
"But you know why it is not."
And I do. Like he loves me, I love him. And I know that it is not possible to hate someone you love
with every fiber of my being, every bit of your soul. Lord, I know that's not possible. Knowing this
probably better than any other person on this planet.
I want him to hate me, but I loved Falcon from the first day I looked at him going to the mall when I
went out. Right from the start, since that brief moment our eyes collided together explosively, I felt
the undercurrent of danger that surrounds him, he knew everything about him was the opposite of
what I was trying to accomplish in your life. But the danger is presented to me carefully protected,
organized existence excites me and I am assuming his stoic face a friend with each and every issue
for Falcon use to contact me if Falcon had him follow me to my car with a simple message: "Dinner.
Today Charlie Trotter's. "
.
At the moment my goal is to keep him away stopped when I admire the beauty of complementary tan
your skin against smooth cocoa brown mine. Contrast is the essence of us: we complement each
other, complement each other, and if it's good between us, it is not only good it's fucking
exceptional
.
Conversely, when it's bad, it tends to be horridly atrocious.
"Do not touch me," I snap, grinding every word between clenched teeth. I flirt hand away from mine,
instantly aware of how my skin felt at the loss of contact I have deprived myself of for so long.
He pushes the elbow and looking at me from their point of view. Deadly calm, he asks: "You allows
someone else to touch what belongs to me?"
"No." I refuse to make eye contact, but frost is flowing through my body however. Maybe I prevented
myself from looking at the implied threat, but not a damn thing with my hearing a warning order
went through loud and clear. Rudeness, which is located just beneath the calm facade chills me to
the bone.
Grasping her chin between thumb and forefinger is trying to turn his face towards him, but I resist.
"Look at me, Devin. Now." The order is unmistakable. Irreversible. He waits until I listen to talk
again. "No one will ever touch what is mine. Stork?"
Obviously I do not respond as quickly as they'd like. He invades my space, the location of his
touchingly beautiful, tanned face inches from my own face. "You are mine, Devin."

5. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Falcon. Did not think so. Stork. Yo comprende. Understand I'm a whore. I'm
yours." Unable to refrain from the temptation of a second to say something I should not, I add,
"Unlike you, I honor the promises husband ."
This is not always so, however. Despite the strict supervision of the Falcon keeps me (and because),
so I managed before cheat on him. Once the.
Months after it happened, so I learned about his first infidelity; certainly not his first since we were
together, but first come to my attention. He fucked a stripper hired to work his bachelor party the
night before we committed ourselves before God, our families and our closest friends. I would have
been hurt beyond belief that ultimately set the path for my indiscretion.
To this day, I do not know how he appeared so quickly what I did, but he took me to dinner the very
next night to the restaurant where we had our first date. He sat across from me, a great suit covered
form lying comfortably in his chair, smiling and joking with me, working on a perfect gentleman. The
whole evening, unbeknownst to him, so I thought, inner war waged in me, the one who has a bad
conscience is slowly but surely won.
I just took a bite of my food, cover to avoid blurting confession when he said, "You'll be pleased to
know that they will live this time."
"What is?" I asked, confused. I knew I had to talk about someone close to me as Falcon never
discussed anything related to business in my presence. If the feds ever succeeded in their relentless
effort to destroy his family's criminal empire wanted to make sure, no matter what happened to the
rest Bianchis, regardless of what happened to him, I left debris free and clean. No questions asked.
"I said that I would live this time," he said with a wink that was not charming and attractive in the
least.
On the contrary, it is absolutely terrifying. He is really the meaning of the expression "in the blink of
an eye," because with a wink, that would transform from a playful laugh ice.
"Who?" I asked, fear grows. I suspected who he's talking about, but still ...
"Mauricio." Falcon immediately dashed my hopes. "It is with Lucky and Bruno right now. Matter
fact," he looked at his watch with a diamond encrusted "should be finishing up with him for another
ten minutes or so."
I jumped to my feet, scream stuck in my throat when I was confronted with the consequences of
their actions. I suffered no disillusion: I Mauricio brought it down. Whether the punishment was
meted out to him was because of me and my endurance. He denied his advances several times, and
very strongly about it because he did not want to be disloyal to the Falcon.
But the man ordered the woman to protect her boss could be expected only resist for so long. The
result was a foregone conclusion when the woman consumed with pain and sorrow, he sought solace
from a man who just seemed overall very nice guy. And he was in the right place at the right time.
Once the alcohol was mixed into the equation and wipe inhibitions, one thing led to another and a
recipe for the deadly catastrophe was born.
"Sit down, Devin," Falcon ordered coldly. "People are looking at you."

6. "I do not care whatever the fuck Look," I whispered hoarsely. "If you do not call happiness right now
and tell him to release Mauricio, I-I-"
"You what?" His innate cruelty is reflected in the harsh lines of his handsome face and a cold steel
gray eyes.
Suddenly I realized the futility of my protests. I was confronted with my husband. I was in a
confrontation with Falcon Delano Bianchi, Capo of the most violent factions, the fastest growing
Bianchi crime family.
I would have stood there for a few moments more, desperately trying to think of what I could say to
save Mauricio from further damage. It was not that my undying love for Mauricio asked to save him
or anything quite that drastic, but the horror of someone else suffering because of something I
organized frightened me and demanded I cancel. Especially because I was not far from suffering the
same gruesome fate as Mauricio.
As Mauricio was pounded into a bloody, broken pulp, possibly on his way to swim with fish , I was
sitting in one of the most expensive, posh restaurants in Chicago eat salmon. The irony was washed
away by a wave of nausea that made me take my place.
"Finish your food," encouraged Falcon, as if nothing had happened. "You almost did not eat."
I pushed the food around the plate, appetite, which was missing start now completely gone. "Why
are you doing with him?" I hissed. "My God, he's your friend, Falcon."
"He's not my boyfriend. He is just a companion." Took a slow sip of white wine bought on the waiter
in the proposal. "He owes me a considerable amount of money."
"Then why, tell me about it?"
"I just thought that you might be worried when Mauricio is not present, so that tomorrow you
company. To come to my attention, you and he became rather friendly ... lately."
But that was not all. He was not even half of it. A Falcon I wanted to admit the real reason. "A?"
"A what? You know of any other reason I should be angry Mauricio, amore mio?" Falcon met my gaze
full and I could read his written invitation. Just as I had the courage to admit that this was me
courage. "Is there anything you'd care to share with me?"
"I know nothing." The best help I can give Mauricio had to hold her tongue. My entry would be as
good as a signature on his death certificate, if Falcon did not already know how out of hand, what
really got to us. I had eyes on the pristine white cloth covering the table. "It ... it will be okay? Will
he survive?"
With a grunt, he shouted to the waiter Falcon to control. It was not until our bill was paid, the car
loaded valet, and we are on our way home, the Falcon deigned to give me an answer. "I like
Mauricio, that's why you live, Devin. Next time will not. Seru that the next person will not.
Remember that."
That night haunted me for years. I could not figure out why Falcon Mauricio punished, but I do not
and it scared me to death. I lived half my life worried one day my husband would remember me

7. gently and take vengeance. And then it hit me.
Falcon already had his revenge. For Mauricio, it was expressed in bodily harm.
For me, it was all mental.