Page 29 of The Mafia's Seamstress

“So you knew,” I said, rocking slightly. His eyes closed briefly and he hummed in acknowledgement.

“I’ve just been waiting for you to ask,” he said. His hands stay on my hips.

“Would you like to begin the interrogation this way or in a more respectable manner?” I asked. Was I using this moment for selfish reasons? Yes. But I was giving him an out.

Dante lifted my shirt until I was naked on top of him. I lifted my hips and he tugged his briefs off. I guess there was no point in putting on clothes in the first place. He placed his hands on the back of his head, shifting to get comfortable.

“I prefer this way, amore,” he said with a grin. I shrugged my shoulders. I felt his dick begin to harden against me. His body tensed slightly as I continued my slow rock. My thighs were still burning from having sex but I could feel myself growing wet again.

“What kind of agreement does my avô have?” I asked. Dante’s jaw tick.

“He makes suits for the mafias. His area is neutral ground, no fighting,” he said with a grunt. I rocked slightly harder against him and Dante bucked his hip. A soft moan escaped my lips.

“Why?” I managed to get out. He raised an eyebrow. I shook my head. I could already feel myself giving into my desires. I needed to focus but the feel of Dante under me was intoxicating. “Why is his land neutral I mean? There must be a reason,” I said. Dante’s hands rocked me harder as my hands dug into his chest, trying to hold myself up.

“That’s something your grandfather should tell you,” he said. I groaned in frustration.

“Mr. Anders is in the mafia?” I asked. He had to be. His whole presence oozed the same darkness as Dante. A bead of sweat dripped down Dante’s face as his cheeks puffed. I leaned forward slightly to give my clit more friction.

“Yes. Americans. We don’t like them,” Dante said before pausing. He bucked his hips roughly causing me to gasp. “Fuck—they’re being sketchy,” he said as he tilted his head up. Another orgasm was building. The Americans? They wanted something. And Mr. Anders was curious about my shop.

Dante helped to rock me against his cock until we were both covered in sweat and his cum. Dante cursed multiple times as he stared at his stomach. I reached for his finger and ran it over his cum before sucking it into my mouth.

“You’re a dream,” he whispered blissfully. I leaned over, kissing him so that this time he tasted his own arousal. His hand gripped the back of my neck holding me in place. When he finally released his hold on me he looked satisfied but I had only one thought in my head.

The Americans wanted my territory.

CHAPTER 10

A Woman’s Word

DON’T BE A PUPPET WHEN YOU WERE BORN TO PULL THE STRINGS

Spending the night with Dante did something to me. Something shifted inside of me. While I knew he was the devil beneath an expensive suit I didn’t see him that way anymore. He went on to explain the things his people did. They helped the community where the government failed. They got things done. People treated them with respect.

But also fear. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that part. Maybe his dick just did something to me. He definitely knows what he’s doing with it.

I would like a suit made personally by you.

Cole Anders was a part of the American mafia. They ruled over the city of Eagle Pointe. He was a slightly tall man made of muscle. His hair was a tawny brown cut short with dark eyes.

While he gave off a dark aura there was a second where I saw something behind his eyes the night of the charity event. Something that made me sad. His people wanted my territory. Dante said that it was a possibility but I knew it was true. I felt it in my bones.

However my city was classified as neutral ground. Meaning none of the clans could fight on my turf. My stomach twisted.

How could a simple agreement from my avô keep these people at bay? There was more to it. There had to be. But Dante refused to tell me anything. It needed to come from my avô’s mouth.

I shook my head. I needed to get through the work day and then I was going to have a talk with my avô, whether he wanted to or not.

The sun was barely rising when I strolled up to my shop. The sound of glass crashing stopped me in my tracks. Up ahead was my shop. The door was swinging open widely as two masked men stood outside. Anger seared through my veins.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I screamed, pulling my small taser from my bag. The men turned to me with wide eyes beneath their ski masks. I took a step forward, taser buzzing.

“I’m going to call the cops you fucking assholes,” I yelled as I began running towards them

“This crazy bitch!” One of them shouted as they both sprinted down the street. I stopped in front of my shop, watching their retreating figures. My heart sank.

The door was busted open and inside racks were knocked over. My hands kept shaking as I fumbled for my phone. I stared at the blank screen. I should call the cops. Should I though? I bit my lip. I slipped my phone back in my pocket.

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