Page 55 of Nanny to the Mafia

I hoped my dick was going to have a fucking blast tonight.

“You should know better, Mother. If I am showing something, it’s because I want people to see.”

I could feel her unconvinced gaze on me. Sometimes I can’t help dancing around her like we were inside a ring. I could easily end this with just one word, but I didn’t. I turned around just in time to see her plaster a fake smile and wave someone over. “Francesca darling, come over here.”

Just what I needed.

I watched the tall brunette walking over to us in a slinky green dress. She was beautiful. On another day, I would have taken her home. Perhaps even for a couple of nights. Who knows, we might have even had a brief relationship of a few months.

Except now, I had higher standards. I followed Divya on the dance floor. No one dared to dance with her, of course, other than my imbecile of a brother.

“Antonio.” My mother grabbed at my attention again. “I am just telling Francesca how you are in Roma all the time. Maybe you two should meet up when you are there?”

I watched the two women in disgust. One who openly connived to break her son’s marriage, the other so obviously ready to open her legs to another woman’s man. I couldn’t even be bothered to give these two my attention for a second. I let their voice drift to an annoying buzz.

My eyes drifted back to my wife. It was as if her saree hid a magnet, drawing me to her. I felt her every move even when I didn’t look. Her laugh, her smile. I had seen her mingle with my family. Friendly, polite. I had watched her mingle with my allies and enemies alike. Except she didn’t know she was walking among criminals. An innocent in my world. I had seen the made men ogle her, trying to hide their thoughts from me. They shouldn’t have bothered. I had the same. All men thought alike, except she was only mine. She would go home with me.

I knew she liked my cousin Laura, who lived in London. I had stood by and watched them talking about London, reminiscing. A soft melancholy clouded her face when she spoke of her weekend travels to her parents in Portsmouth.

She had dragged a couple over, her only invitees to introduce me, a smartly dressed Indian couple in their fifties. Apparently, she had designed the saree with the lady. I didn’t know whether to congratulate or curse her.

“My apartment is close to yours,” Francesca’s voice drifted over.

Finally.

I watched her walking off the dance floor to Rosa, holding Cora. She took Cora over, putting her on her hips, her chubby legs wrapped around her naked waist.

Leaving Francesca mid-sentence, I sauntered over to the threesome. Leaning over, I nuzzled my baby softly, my hands on her chubby legs, gracing my wife’s waist.

“Rosa, will you take her?” I told her in Italian. Rosa carried the baby in her arms. “Oh,” I winked at her, “can you keep her with you till tomorrow?” Rosa chuckled and moved away, blowing Divya a kiss.

She looked suspiciously at me. “What did you tell her, and why did she take Cora away? I could only carry her now,” she accused.

I dropped down on the chair near me and spread my legs wide, indicating with my finger she should come closer.

Mistrust was written all over her face, yet she obliged, reluctantly coming to stand in front of me, just out of arm’s reach.

Did she really think that would stop me?

Leaning over, I gripped her hand and jerked her closer, settling her in between my legs.

“Antonio,” she hissed. “People are watching.”

“Mia cara, do I look like I care? You have been taunting me the whole day.” I wrapped one hand around her naked waist, softly rubbing my rough palm on her bare back. “The whole time you have been here, my eyes never left you.” I wondered how her saree was held up. Was she wearing anything underneath? I looked up at her. “Why do you taunt me so?”

Her skin felt like velvet. She was making a poet out of me. I sighed. Leaning over, I pressed my lips to her navel. “La mia bella moglie, will you give me my wedding night,” I muttered. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

I didn’t really know what I would do if she said no.

My heated breath fell on her hot skin. I followed the rhythm of her breathing through her belly as she ran her hands through my hair. One breath, two, three. I looked up to meet her hooded eyes. “Yes.”

Fucking marvellous.

These would be the sweetest words I’d ever heard. I let a wicked grin spread across my face. That’s all I needed. Within five minutes, we were out of there.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DIVYA

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