Page 47 of Princess of the Mafia

I frowned as I dropped the envelope I was holding on the table and strolled over to the kitchen. My eyes raked over my wife a few feet away. I couldn’t imagine her mother had packed these dresses for her and she hadn’t gone shopping here. Whoever packed this shit for her must hate me for sure. I wanted to cup her ass, rest my dick in her, and plunge my tongue into her sweetness.

“What have you two made?” My eyes fell pointedly on the countertop, which didn’t seem to bother either of the two women.

“Cannoli Siciliani. Can’t you see?”

Innocence mixed with fucking spark. I leaned my hip against the barstool. “I am supposed to guess it by the mess in the kitchen?”

She followed my gaze like she was seeing the mess for the very first time. “Oh.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It was too cold and clean, anyway. Now it looks like a kitchen.”

She thought my high-end design kitchen was too cold and too clean.

“Well, I’d like it clean, anyway.”

She huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Has anyone told you that you can't have everything you like?”

“I am beginning to experience it, sì. And I don’t like it one bit,” I muttered darkly.

She stilled. “Did you give in to your temptation?”

I frowned in confusion till realization dawned.

“I’m not talking about another woman, Principessa,” I said softly.

Her eyes shone bright, and her smile was weak, and it wobbled like a stack of piled-up sticks. But I’d take one of these any day over her painful cries.

“You want one?” She held a cannoli in her hand, filled with chocolate cream and dipped in chocolate sauce.

“Did you make it?”

Benedetta chuckled in the kitchen, and Daria’s eyes went round as big as saucers. “Sul serio! It took like four hours to make. I can’t even boil an egg.” Triumph spilled out of her voice.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her with her cannoli to me. All I wanted to do was wrap my mouth around her. Instead, I wrapped it around the sweet and imagined the chocolate spilling inside was her sweetness. “Hmm, una bomba.”

She jerked her hand away and rubbed it awkwardly on her lips. Doubt flickered in her gaze as to whether I meant the sweet or her. I guess she didn’t know me well. She was the only fucking beauty in the room. A dark smile pulled at my lips. Did she even know how she seduced me with her fingers on her lips? “Benedetta is amazing.”

I ignored her words. “Why can’t you cook?”

She tilted her head up in defiance. “I will not cook to please a man. He should take me as I am.”

Benedetta chuckled as she left the room. Thank God at least one person in this place knew me well enough to leave me alone with my wife.

“He as in me?”

“Or whoever I marry after you.”

Jesus! Acid boiled in my stomach and injected through every vein in my body. She was already planning her next marriage? To whom? I’d kill anyone she even thought of.

“You’re hurting me!”

I looked down at my hand bruising her wrist. Fuck. When had I done that? With a shake of my head, I released her.

“No more talking of other men, sì?” She was asking too much of me. I’d given my word that I would be faithful, and she didn’t even seem to understand how much it meant. But she spoke of marriages to the next man as if ours was nothing but a halt on the way to her final destination. I rushed a hand through my hair, because I wasn’t sure what I’d do with it if I didn’t. “Are you keeping your end of the deal?”

“Well, I didn’t cheat on you while at home. Did you?”

I was not sure if she’d had too many cannolis to spike up her sugar level or if she was getting comfortable enough with me to voice her words without a filter. I wasn’t sure which of the two I preferred. The latter, I hoped, even if it was a curse on my blood pressure.

“The thought never crossed my mind, Principessa.”

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