Page 38 of Protected By the Mafia

There were a few scattered vehicles, but she couldn’t see any signs of movement. Not that she was any kind of skilled observer. Felicity scrunched up her face. “Isn’t that kind of your guys’ fault?”

Cristiano chuckled, leading her directly to a very nice, shiny black car that surely cost more than her college tuition. He beeped it unlocked and held open the passenger door for her. “See, Foxglove, that’s not the kind of argument they’d appreciate.” He motioned her inside and shut the door behind her before moving around to duck into the driver’s seat.

Felicity buckled herself in and wiped her sweaty palms down the skirt of her dress. “But we’ll be okay?” He’d already answered that. She couldn’t believe she was so freaked out. She’d done therapy before, kind of. One of her two psychology courses had offered on-campus counseling as extra credit and she’d taken advantage, since it was free and gave a boost to her grade. She imagined this would feel rather different than that, though.

Cristiano navigated them onto the main road, then moved a hand to her thigh and squeezed. “We’ll be okay, baby. I promise.”

She tried to hold on to his words and let herself watch the city she’d spent the last week and a half sitting above pass by her window. Was that really all it had been?

She thought back on that day in the grocery store, when she’d first laid eyes on Cristiano. It felt like so long ago. Her mind fast-forwarded through the memories they’d already made as he drove, lingering over her favorite highlights. The way he cooked for her whenever he could. The way he preferred to hold her in his lap. The sight of his name, tattooed across the rippling muscles of his back, as he knelt between her thighs. And every single mind-numbing orgasm.

Felicity squirmed in her seat. Maybe this isn’t the best thing to think about before meeting someone new.

A flicker of their conversation from the night before, as he’d been working up to take her for the second time, replayed in her mind. The moment had been hot, but in the light of day, she wanted to smack herself. “Cristiano,” she said, moving a hand to rest over the top of the one he still had on her thigh. “I’m sorry, I— Last night, I was a little worked up and I called you ‘Cris’ without asking if it bothered you.”

The car rolled to a stop at an intersection and he turned to raise a brow at her. “You’re apologizing for that?”

She nodded.

He squeezed her leg again. The light turned, traffic moved forward, and he said, “Most of my family calls me Cris. I don’t mind it.” He paused to make a turn, almost immediately sliding into a center turn lane and flicking on the blinker. “I am curious why you worried about that.”

Felicity swallowed, watching through the windshield as he turned into a business complex she’d never ventured into. Some places just emanated a certain level of wealth, which equated to higher expense, and growing up poor meant avoiding those places like the plague. But she pushed that thought aside and quietly said, “Tristán always insisted on calling me Lissy. Sometimes Manny would, too, but only when he was mocking me. I’ve come to hate it. I’m not Lissy, and the last time someone tried calling me ‘Fi’ the person standing next to them assumed that meant my name was Fiona. So I’d rather just be called by my proper name, and since I feel that way, I should have made a point to check with you.”

By the time she was done, Cristiano had eased to a stop in front of a single-story, clean brick building. It almost looked more like a house than a business. There wasn’t even a sign out front. It was definitely the kind of place you had to know where you were going to know you belonged.

Cristiano released her seat belt, then his own, and twisted to face her. “How many pet names do I have for you?”

She blinked at him. “Um, three?” Suddenly she wasn’t sure.

“Are you upset about them? Or that I didn’t ask first?”

“No.” Realization dawned and she smiled. “No,” she repeated. “They’re different. They feel different.”

His expression softened and he cupped her cheek. “You can call me any damn thing you want. If it feels right to you, I won’t have a problem with it.” His hand retreated and he threw open his door. “Let’s go.” He didn’t actually wait for her before rounding the car, catching her door, and pulling it open the rest of the way.

Felicity supposed she should have known he’d want to get her door for her. She didn’t put up a fuss about him leading the way into the building. She was proud of herself for managing not to cling to him like a koala when her nerves surged back to the surface as they stepped inside.

Cristiano led them down a short hall and into a sitting room-like lobby space, where he guided her to take a seat with him on a two-seater sofa. There was another hall that opened off the far side of the room, and Felicity could see a partially closed door with a restroom sign on it. The room had two decent sized windows, both covered with drapes that were thin enough to let the light through while managing to effectively obscure anyone’s view from outside.

A woman stepped into the room from somewhere beyond the restroom, catching Felicity’s attention. She was maybe two inches taller than Felicity’s five-foot-five, depending on the exact measurement of her tasteful heels, with a slim build wrapped in a pantsuit worthy of a magazine cover. Her hair was light brown in the process of transitioning to silver, which she wore without evidence of shame, twisted away from her face in a low bun. Creases around her eyes and lips indicated her age, but she wore her years well. And Felicity could hardly miss the way both her still brown brows lifted high on her forehead as her attention settled on Cristiano.

Cristiano stood. “Dr. Laura,” he said. He reached back and pressed his fingers into Felicity’s arm, a silent signal for her to stand as well. “Sorry to do this to you. This is who you’ll be seeing today, but I need you to keep everything under my name.”

Dr. Laura’s hazel-colored eyes shifted to Felicity. “This isn’t what I agreed to, Cristiano.”

“I know,” he said calmly, “but it was necessary.”

Felicity chewed her lip, not sure she should be speaking at this stage.

Dr. Laura sighed. “All right. You’re already paying for the spot, anyway. But never trick me like this again.” She motioned Felicity forward. “Come on, honey, let’s have a talk.”

Felicity glanced up at Cristiano, more uncertain than ever.

He lifted a hand to the small of her back and gave her a light push. “Go ahead. I’ll be out here.”

She nodded and stepped forward, following the older woman around the corner. There were two more doors, one almost opposite the bathroom and one at the end of the hall. The closer one was wide open and looked to lead to some kind of snack or play space. Dr. Laura led her to the other, motioning her inside and closing the door behind them for privacy. This was a proper therapy room, as far as Felicity could tell. A sofa stretched along one wall, with cushions and a side table containing a box of tissues. A large, covered window. A floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on the opposite wall, containing books, trinkets, boxed games, and candy jars. In front of the bookshelf, facing the sofa, was a tall wingback chair with a side table of its own.

“Have a seat,” Dr. Laura said, indicating the sofa. “The De Salvo boys tend to call me Dr. Laura, so I’m used to that by now if you want to do the same.” She settled into the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Before we dive into anything, since this started unconventionally, I’m going to ask you two questions. I need you to answer them honestly and as naturally as possible, okay?”

---