Page 13 of The Virgin I Desire

“Right.”

The man nodded and left the room.

I was alone and looked around. I felt like I was destined for great things and finally this future of mine was turning out as I imagined.

I opened the wardrobe and took out a suit. As I ran my hand over the piece, I remembered the day my father had called a tailor to make it. It was undeniable that Sergei was right, although Igor had always been the legitimate heir, he didn't treat me like a bastard, just like my brother, who didn't hide his jealousy of seeing me around.

I dressed appropriately and picked up the ruby cufflinks I had received for my thirtieth birthday a few months ago.

I had not planned or been prepared to become the boss, but the blood was flowing in me, and I would take on my role asI saw fit. I closed the closet, and my mind was taken to a flash of memory, like a snap. I hadn't thought about her in recent months, probably because of my father's health.

The girl had grown up since the time I saw her. However, I had a feeling that she would be even more beautiful. I shouldn't be thinking about the daughter of the head of the biggest rival organization to mine, however, I was no longer just the bastard who saw her for the first time.

I had become king and could have anything I wanted, including a Bellucci.

Chapter six

I went into the bathroom and put my dirty clothes on one rack and my dress on another, before undressing and going into the shower. I tempered the water and went in at once, getting my hair wet and making it stick to my body.

Things used to be easier when I was growing up. My concerns were playing and learning new things, but over time I began to become aware of everything that was around me and Irealized that I couldn't run away from them, as they were part of who I was.

The conversation with Perla was still echoing in my head even a few days later. If it weren't for Luca, it would be someone else, any capo that my father believed was good enough for me and an important ally for the family. I could be sent to any part of Italy or even to other countries with arms of the Italian mafia, such as England and the United States.

What would it be like afterwards?I didn't know.

I might have a few more years of the comfort and protection of the Bellucci mansion, but my marriage was inevitable.

I closed the valve, pushed my hair back and took a deep breath. My mother, my aunts and other women had faced that same fate and it would be no different for me. I just hoped that like them I could find a version of happiness.

I dried myself with a fluffy white towel, applied my lotions, got dressed and left the bathroom, going back to my room. Fortunately, Perla wasn't there, and I locked myself inside, hoping to be alone for a while, even if it wasn't for long, because it was a Sunday.

With Uncle Mateo living with his children in an apartment in downtown, and the men in the family always on missions, Grandma had institutionalized that as family day. We all had to be together, it didn't matter if one of us had been shot. I usually found it boring and preferred to spend time in my room, but with the possibility of being forced to leave that house, I was starting to value those moments.

I approached the dressing table and put on some lip gloss to go down, but before I set foot out of the room, I realizedthat my cell phone was ringing, and I picked it up on top of the furniture. I didn't recognize the number, it was a secure line, I had gotten the device from Uncle Mateo and no one, other than my parents or family, ever called me.

I shouldn't answer. Uncle Mateo had told me to be very careful, he had a very secure system, but that didn't mean that other people couldn't spy on the device.

Although it was for my own protection, I didn't know anything, there wasn't any information they could extract from me.

Curiosity got the better of me and I answered almost on the last ring.

“Hey...”

“Pietra.” The voice on the other end was firm, thick and with a heavy accent.

My heart raced and I was speechless.

“Pietra Bellucci?”

“Yes.” My throat felt scratchy, then it became dry. I had no idea who was on the other end of the line, or maybe I did, and the possibility terrified me at the same time as it made me euphoric. “Who is this?”

“Someone who would love to get to know you better.”

“Have I seen him before?”

“Yes.” The deep voice resonated inside me like the tolling of a bell. I didn't remember my legs feeling so wobbly on another occasion. “Four years ago.”

“You were the waiter at the fundraiser.”

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