Page 32 of Mafia Star

“Then, I think I better go.”

“You don’t want to be friends?”

I thought I was crushed before.

He holds the door open for me to walk through, then he follows me and shuts it behind him. I put my stuff on the dining room table and kick off my heels. His hands touch my waist for a moment before he pulls away, and I turn around.

“Of course, I want to be your friend. I can control myself, Beth. As much as it might kill me, I can. But you are every temptation I could ever imagine.”

“And you once caught a fish this big.”

I hold my hands apart.

“I’m not exaggerating. It was a struggle to not touch you more at the loft, and it’s a struggle now. I didn’t want the car ride to end.”

“Me neither.”

We stare at each other, and it feels so sad. Like we both want to say and do more, but we can’t. Is it really because our siblings got married? Is it really because we agreed to keep everything at the club? No. I think we’re both too chicken-shit to do anything in case the other rejects it.

“Tomorrow, piccolina.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

He kisses my cheek, then he’s walking out. The door shuts softly behind him. Why did I let him leave?

Chapter Seven

Marco

Adulting blows. Like massive chunks. Enzo and Chelle are back— which is great because I missed my brother. But they’re busy moving in together, and he’s just dumped the responsibility for all our strip clubs onto my lap. They’ve passed hands as one guy after another has gotten married. None of us are into them as patrons, but they’re mainly cash businesses. They make it easy to launder money, so that’s a main reason to keep them. They’re also unofficial offices for us. It’s where we hold a lot of business meetings with men who don’t want to be seen walking into the Mancinelli Developers’ building and definitely don’t want us walking into theirs.

But when are strip clubs the busiest? At night. What does that mean for my plans? They’re fucked. It was my turn to cancel on Beth the night after we had the most mind-blowing sex I’d had up till then. I didn’t want to tell her where I had to be instead of with her, but if she found out I lied, it would ruin everything. I’m certain she wasn’t thrilled, but what could I do?

That was three weeks ago, and we’ve met at the club four out of seven nights each week. Each time we’ve talked a little longer during our post coital bliss. Neither of us suggests meeting outside the club, and neither of us hints at something more or that this is something more.

We’ve been helping our siblings move today after three weeks of splitting their time between here and Enzo's penthouse, and it’s pure torture seeing her but not being able to touch her, talk to her alone. I’m fucking over it and doing something about it right now.

“What type of salad do you want, Enzo?”

“Greek. Chellie, what do you want?”

“Mmm. Cobb, please.”

“Liz, why don’t you come with me? I could use a hand carrying everything since I’ll have the pizza too. Would you mind?”

I caught myself before I called her Beth. She looks surprised for a second. Was it by the name or the fact that I invited her to come with me? She glances at Chelle and Enzo before she nods. She leans over to Chelle and whispers none too quietly.

“We’ll be back in thirty. We’ll be sure to be nice and loud when we get back.”

I hadn’t thought about that, but my brother looks like he’s ready to devour his bride. I pray I’ve been hiding my desire for Beth better than Enzo hides his for Chelle. The moment the elevator doors close, we’re stuck together like magnets. I fumble but find the stop button. I press her into the corner, my hands sliding down the front of her shorts.

“You’re awfully wet, piccolina.”

“That’s your fault.”

“Mmm. Do you want me?”

“As much as you want me.”

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