Page 85 of Mafia Mistress

“I don’t want him to give me gifts or pay me off. Even though Enzo D’Agostino called me a puttanella, I’m not.”

Giulio’s face darkened and he grew serious. Scary serious. “Che palle! Did he say this to your face?”

“No, he said it to your father, who laughed.”

“I will have a word with him. He should have put D’Agostino in his place.”

“Perhaps as D’Agostino’s brother-in-law, you can put him in his place.”

“Do not remind me. But my father should not tolerate such disrespect.”

“That is what I told him.”

Giulio looked confused. “What did he say?”

“That he was too angry over the black bikini to even hear what D’Agostino said.”

“I bet this was true. He’s very protective of you. Another man seeing all your gorgeous skin must have driven him crazy.”

“You saw me in that bikini.”

“Which was why my father arranged that trip with Katarzyna in the first place. He thought you and I were fucking on the boat.”

Fausto, jealous over other men? Ridiculous. He was gorgeous, powerful and wealthy, and had a big dick. What other man could possibly compare? Not that I would ever tell him as much.

“What’s up there?” I pointed to an upper terrace.

“That is part of the master suite. There is a jacuzzi and more seating.”

Wow. “You Italians really know how to live.”

Giulio lifted his glass. “Indeed we do, bella. So, why would you ever want to leave?”

As I sipped the cocktail, the Roman sun warming my face, I had to agree. This was about as close to perfection as I could imagine.

But perfection never lasted. Losing my mother at such a young age had taught me that. You had to appreciate what you had in the moment, because who knew when it would disappear? This summer, I was in Italy and I had a smoking hot boyfriend who was incredibly wealthy. For now, that was enough.

* * *

One thingI learned since staying here was that Italians like to eat dinner late. It was almost nine o’clock when Giulio and I left the apartment. He still wouldn’t tell me where we were going, but he did insist on picking out my outfit.

He chose the red lace La Perla bodysuit and a red wrap-around dress we had purchased today. “You should always wear red,” he said with a smirk.

“Why?”

“Because of your coloring, bella. And I have a feeling my father will like it.”

Giulio held my arm down the stairs. While I loved the black heels he paired with the outfit—Louboutins with a scalloped edge along the sides and a sky-high heel—they did not allow for going up and down stairs easily. Still, I adored them. They made my legs look long and I reached Giulio’s height with them on.

Three guards followed us, including Paolo. It must have been strange for him to follow his boyfriend as Giulio escorted a woman out to dinner. I wondered if they would find a way to be together tonight when we returned to Siderno.

We didn’t go far. The restaurant was directly across the street from the apartment, a small trattoria that looked charming from the outside. Giulio held open the door and I went in. The restaurant was empty, the tables and chairs completely vacant. Was this place even open?

A woman emerged from the back. She had silver hair that was cut into a sleek bob. “Buonasera, signore, signorina. Follow me, please.”

I trailed her toward the rear of the restaurant and out a small door. A stone patio stretched out in front of me, twinkling lights strung overhead, illuminating the lone table on the stone patio.

And the man waiting there.

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