Page 59 of Princess of the Mafia

Line upon line of information swam before my eyes on my flashy new laptop. Leaning against the kitchen counter I rocked my hips to Benedetta’s singing as my mind wrapped around the information Google was spewing out. All this research was fun, even if it would remain a dream. Because who was I kidding? No way was any made man allowing his wife to go to university and mingle among normal human beings. Let alone a man as brutish as my husband was.

He’d shoved a laptop under my nose a week ago. But the thing was, I knew these tricks. Papà had tried them all. Extend an olive branch, and just when you get your hopes up, yank it right back. Still, it didn’t hurt to dream a bit. If nothing else other than for the entertainment itself.

Another sort of entertainment brushed my back and wrapped around me. He’d been on a mission, and I felt it. There was a path he was carving, and it led straight to me. I was already wavering when I’d never been close to a man who wasn’t family. But he focused on me and only me with those laser beams that he called eyes and it was doing weird things to me. Large, tanned hands with a dusting of black hair came to rest on either side of me and caged me in against the cold slab of marble against the kitchen island. A rough scruff and a hot whisper of a man nuzzled my neck. Goosebumps hitched up my spine.

My head shot up to Benedetta rolling out pasta sheets. There wasn’t a hitch in her soft singing to give away she’d noticed the woman eater against my back.

Still, I tried to shake him off. It was hard. For one thing, a 200-and-something-pound man wasn’t a blanket. And my heart wasn’t really in it. He’d been wrapping himself around me like molten lava, dissolving my resolve one kiss, one touch, one look at a time. When he gave me the shiny laptop, which he had already used to research the ideal university for me, my body had dissolved like a hot puddle of jelly underneath his Valentino loafers. Even if it was only to remain a dream.

“Well….” His gruff voice caught the hollow in the back of my ear. A thrill of a spark zipped the length of my body, like I’d stuck my pinky in an electric socket.

I swallowed. “Well, what?”

“Have you decided?”

I couldn’t follow this line of conversation if I wanted to. And I really didn’t want to. I was in heat. I was needy. His constant looks and hot touches were getting to me. It must have been the mating season or something. That was it.

A loud slap landed on my ass. My head shot up embarrassingly at the same time as Benedetta’s singing stopped. Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Bruto!” I tried to shove the reluctant weight off my body, which only made him push his onto me. “Stop it,” I hissed.

“Benedetta, go do something else,” he rasped while running his teeth along the back of my neck.

“Minchia.” I could just drill a hole through this stupid marble floor and bury myself in the cellar 129 floors down. Benedetta, God bless the woman, only shook her head and took off. “You’re so rude.”

He chuckled against my skin, and a ripple of warm pleasure rode out to every cell in my body. “I think you like me just the way I am, Principessa.”

Not. But it didn’t stop me from arching my back to his. There was something hard and solid against it.

“Have you decided?”

I couldn’t for the life of me fathom what this was about. The metallic surface of the kitchen cupboards drifted before my eyes, and I caught the warped shape of our reflection in them. If this wasn’t hot, I didn’t know what was. Stop it! I do not like my husband.

Another nip on my neck. “Or should I decide for you?”

I didn’t want him to do anything for me. Other than maybe rub himself against me like he was doing. I bit my lip to stop the moan that was climbing up my throat.

“No,” I muttered.

His warm hand slid up my legs, underneath my skirt, and wrapped around my core. The moan slipped out as easily as water through my open palm. My head rolled back to rest against his chest.

“You’re so wet, Principessa. It’s a fucking dam down here.” His finger traced the wet path on my silk panties. “You want me to make you come?” His words grated against my ear and sent a fresh thrill of sparks down my spine.

Isn’t it obvious? Yes. I nodded vigorously.

“Yeah?” he rasped.

Yes! God, yes! My head bobbed again.

He pushed my panties to the side, and hot air rushed to my core. I pushed against him, impatience riding every nerve in my body. Minchia! The memory of the last time his fingers were inside me wasn’t helping matters. Honestly, it was embarrassing. The thin line of wetness running along the seam of my thighs wasn’t helping.

His other hand grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head up. I closed my eyes instantly.

“Eyes open,” his tone was dark and tight, just like his face, I realized when my eyes opened reluctantly to his.

His finger traced my opening. “Who am I to you?”

Not this again. My eyes slid closed and his finger slipped away. No. I rocked in annoyance, and a dark chuckle touched my neck. “Who am I to you, Principessa, and before you pop that beautiful mouth of yours open, I’d think about it because my hands will do other things than you…” he bit my neck to my loud yelp, “if you give me the fucking wrong answer.”

He was my captor, my business partner, but all that came out of my stupid mouth was “My husband.”

---