Page 66 of Princess of the Mafia

Medda! I was sure my skin colored the deepest shade of red in the damn Pantone chart. Beast. My husband was an absolute beast.

I sat at the dining table, going through the course materials I had received to prepare. Maybe Cosa Nostra girls were made to sweat in the kitchen and spread our legs in the bedroom because even though I had read the book before me twice, the information refused to soak in. Renaissance, Baroque, Gothic, Art déco, Art nouveau… my gaze hazed as it rested on the large table. This must be the shit style. I hated this apartment even more when he wasn’t around. It was like it became colder, grayer, harder…

“Vuoi un po' di antipasto?” Benedetta called out from the kitchen to the shake of my head.

“Non ho fame.” I wasn’t hungry.

“Ai, ai.” She shook her head with a giggle. “You’ll be hungry again when he’s home.”

“That’s not why. I’m worried about college.” I frowned at her skepticism. “Really!”

She huffed. “Ridicola! You can’t hide anything from a Sicilian Mamma.”

I sighed. Whatever. She was sweet. Kind of my American Mamma. But once she got an idea in her head, there was no way of pulling it out. Even if the idea was all wrong. I didn’t miss him at all.

It was three days since he had left. Seventy-seven hours, to be exact. A few hours after he had walked out the door, a guy in a checkered shirt and thin round glasses had turned up. Apparently, he was his main IT guy, and he showed me how I could access an encrypted program that would show his location at all times. I didn’t know who was most surprised. The guy frowning at me for putting his boss in danger, or me that his boss was actually allowing it. I wasn’t sure who the idiot in this picture was.

“Please be careful, Signora,” he had implored enough times to drill it into my brain. So even though my hands itched to log in and check where he was, I never did. It didn’t stop me from tossing and turning and wondering. Wondering if he was with another woman. Just like it didn’t stop me from listening to other voices when he called. All I heard were the rough male voices of men born or made to kill. Still, doubt crawled into every cell, every pore, and every vein in my body until that was all that I was. A tight bundle of doubt.

The front door slammed shut, and the sound of heavy footsteps striding along the hallway prickled my ears. He didn’t say he was going to… A hot vision appeared round the corner, his walk rushed, and his face strained.

“Lorenzo, you didn’t say you were….”

“Later,” he muttered darkly as he strode past Benedetta’s bemused look to me.

I didn’t know what I expected. A peck on the cheek? A whispered hello? It certainly wasn’t to pull me up like a koala bear and stride with me towards our bedroom. Benedetta’s loud laugh followed to the rush of hot heat on my cheeks.

“Minchia! How are you so rude?”

“Born that way.”

He took the first door to the left, strode inside the movie room, and threw me onto the nearest couch, right opposite the door. One of those fancy Italian designer brands, with alpine hide, brushed my ass.

“What are you doing?” I tried to crawl off, but he dragged me back down.

Minchia. He was unbuckling his belt like his life depended on it. “Need. To. Fuck. You.”

Indecision rode my skin. I didn’t know if I should stop him or join in.

“Here?”

“Can’t make it further.”

I clutched the full-grain calf hide of the couch. “We’re going to ruin this.”

“Don’t care.”

He dropped his pants and boxers and yanked me closer to him. His rough hands found my slip in a second and shredded it in two. “Shit.” He half carried me, and half pulled me, and nuzzled my neck. “Tell me you’re fucking wet because I’ll die if I can’t fuck you now.”

His fingers found my line and slipped inside in one smooth move. “Fuck, yes,” his hot breath grated against my neck. “I’ll fuck you slow the next time. Promise. I just can’t…” I gasped as he pushed inside with an animalistic growl.

“Argh.” I shoved against him.

“I’m sorry, Principessa,” he moaned. “Did I hurt you?”

“Just give me a minute to adjust.”

He nodded. I don’t think even he realized it, but he was moving already, and damn if it didn’t feel good. “Bruto,” I muttered anyway.

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