Page 13 of The Mafia's Seamstress

"I wouldn't leave him alone with you unless there was a 12 foot pole attached to him," Mr. Costa said. I glanced at Luca confused.

"I mean I have a-"

Mr. Costa’s eyes cut Luca's sentence down. Luca straightened himself, looking away from his cousin. For some reason I felt like laughing. Luca in our conversation was easy going and yet Mr. Costa had the ability to shut him up.

"Well I'm leaving!" Luca said. "I was the perfect gentleman cousin. Don't worry." Luca clapped his hand on Mr. Costa’s shoulder. He turned to face me and leaned towards my ear. His warmth breath sent shivers down my spine.

“For now,” he said. My cheeks heated. And with those two words Luca was gone. The tense air seemed to dissipate.

Now I was alone with Mr. Costa and it was already seven. He looked at me up and down. He was probably noticing my rumpled oversized blouse, scuffed leggings and disheveled hair. He, on the other hand, was wearing a dress shirt, with fitted slacks. My eyes paused on the stain around his cufflink. My heart stopped. Blood?

I turned away, making a beeline for my materials. A thousand thoughts raced through my head. Had he hurt someone? Torture? Worse? Fuck and I was alone with him. A part of me was scared but also intrigued.

Mr. Costa followed me towards the dressing room. "What did my cousin tell you?" he asked. I bit my lip.

"Don't worry about it," I mumbled. His hand gently grabbed my shoulder turning me around and then moved to cupped my cheek. My eyes widened. What was he doing? His hand felt warm, gentle. His eyes bled with concern. How could someone who represented forms of darkness be so concerned with me? How could he be so gentle?

“Why are you touching me?” I asked. His eyes casted down before meeting my gaze.

"Tell me," he pleaded softly. I licked my lips.

"If your hand stays on my face I’m kicking you in the balls and then you won’t be able to do anything with your dick,” I said with a bite.

Instead of removing his hand, his fingers pushed into my hair. I bit the inside of my cheek, to keep my reaction at bay. His body was so close to mine. My focus began waning. I wanted his hand to tug my hair, to feel his muscles against my skin. His mouth was hovering slightly above mine, right there for me to take. Mr. Costa pulled away and the air around us cooled immediately.

“Usually that works,” he said. I barked out a laugh.

“Did Mr. Bad Mafia Man really think that a gentle hand, a soft voice and batting those pretty gray eyes would make me tell you anything?” I asked. I placed his suit and pants in the dressing room. There was a tick in his jaw. Was I playing with fire? Absolutely. And I was enjoying it.

“Should I try a different approach, Cinderella? Do you prefer a firmer hand?” he asked with an eyebrow raised. “Want Mr. Bad Mafia Man as you put it, to force the truth out of you?” I tossed my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck.

“Try it Mr. Costa,” I said, offering myself to the wolf. His hand wrapped around my neck. He could feel my pulse drumming against his fingers. I did everything I could to keep a steady pulse. His pupils were beginning to dilate and his cheeks pinkened. His nostrils flared as he took in a breath.

“What did he tell you?” he asked, adding light pressure. I sucked in a breath. Fuck.

“Is that the best you can do?” I snickered.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you like this," he said. His thumb stroked my vein. My whole body tensed, fighting itself. There was wetness gathering between my thighs and I was aching for relief.

"I wouldn't say that when you're threatening to cut off my air," I said. I sounded more breathless than I wanted to. His breath caressed my cheek and my eyes fluttered closed.

"If you can still form full sentences it's not a threat Cinderella," he whispered. Grabbing his wrist I stared into the wolf’s eyes bravely.

"And clearly I’m not breaking so you can remove your hand now," I said. His response? A devilish smirk. His hand slid off of my throat, slowly, achingly as if imprinting his touch to my skin. "Thank you," I said. I stepped back and pointed to the dressing room.

"Strip and try these on," I said. He raised an eyebrow.

"No please?" he teased. I scoffed. His eyes never left mine and he kept the curtain open, providing me with a show. His tattoo caught my eye again.

I had seen the way it swirled up his leg and arched over the waistline of his boxers but what did the parts hidden beneath his underwear look like? I walked over, enticed by his tattoo once again.

"I didn’t think that word would be in the dictionary of a man such as yourself," I said. He pulled his pants, slowly zipping them up. My eyes shamelessly watched.

"Bella, are you confusing me with the men in your books?" he asked.

CHAPTER 4

Call Me By My Name

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