Page 83 of Princess of the Mafia

Then he kicked his chair away, pulled out his erection, and plunged inside me. I felt him pulsing all the way to my bones. He grabbed my hands and pinned them on top of me. He hovered over me, dark and thick. “You say you didn’t want a made man. But I think you need one. One who fucks you like this, where you don’t have to count the cracks on the ceiling.” He pulled out lazily, like he had all the time in the world, and pushed in again as if he had a millisecond before an important task. The desk and I scraped back from the force of it. The loud scrape on the floor mixed with our heavy breathing. “Make no mistake, Principessa. There’ll never be anyone else but me. You are fucking mine.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

DARIA

His office door stood open, and I couldn’t help but sweep the room with my gaze as I passed by. A man I didn’t recognize sat across from my husband. He was shorter and wider. Wide enough to make the shirt on his back stretch along the seams and fight to stay intact.

“I strongly advise you against this.” His voice was loud, pompous, and Sicilian. He reminded me of a million uncles of mine.

I had almost passed the doorway when my husband’s voice pulled me in. “Come here, Principessa.”

I halted and chewed on my lips. Didn’t like the tone of his voice. All harsh and dominant. Ownership rang loud and clear within it. I vaguely remembered him telling me I had to wear something decent. I looked down at my dress and shrugged. The new me considered covering half of my thighs decent enough. At least when I was home. There was no way he would allow me out like this, but I enjoyed pushing it a bit. I didn’t know why I did. I told myself it was to make sure I never gave in to his demands. But secretly, I kind of liked our banter and the comfort he gave me when his eyes sparked. Just for me. But even when he was mad, he had never laid a finger on me. Like slapped me. Like Papà did to Mamma the rare times she dared to question him. He might do it one day. He might. But he hadn’t yet, and God knows I had pushed him further than any woman had before. I was sure of it.

“Daria.” His impatience wrapped around the corner. His tone said there was no use arguing about it.

So I turned around and walked into his office. Two pairs of eyes pinned on me, but I was only aware of one. It was hot and angry, and it burned on my thigh.

“This is my wife,” he spoke to my thigh before riding up to my face. “She won’t be joining the meeting,” he bit out.

I frowned.

“Nice to meet you, Signora Martello.” The man extended his hands from his chair, but Lorenzo’s words, slicing through the air, brought a swift stop to his progress.

“Don’t touch her.”

Minchia! He was furious. The darkness in his voice matched the fury lighting his eyes. The man dropped his hand to his side like he’d been burned. Couldn’t blame him either. I shifted on my feet. Awkward silence and the sharp edge of rage filled the air. Wasn’t he going to tell me who he was? What was the point of calling me in then? Silence ticked for innumerable seconds. But he didn’t offer an explanation other than an angry glare. Whatever.

I shrugged. “I’ll be outside.”

He stood up and brushed my spine as I walked out. I thought he would follow me out. I didn’t know why. Thought he might round the corner and tell me why he was being an asshole. But the only sound was that of the door slamming shut behind me.

He was in a mood. I stormed into the living room and laid my paperwork on the table. I was learning to draw in perspective and I kind of liked it. Liked it more than an angry voice, anyway.

Ten minutes later, my eyes were scrunched, lined up with my vanishing point right above the fireplace, when I caught Nico and Stefano walking past in my peripheral view. I caught my breath, waiting to hear them receive the same kind of welcome as I had gotten from Lorenzo, but the only sound was the thud of the office door closing.

Seemed like he was only mad at me.

I worked quietly, concentration possible for once. I was cleaning up my debris of pencils, erasers, and rulers when Stefano walked in and studied my drawing. I was quite proud of it, but he gave a shake of his head, amusement in his eyes.

“What?” I wiped the eraser shavings off the table with my hand and brought it into the edge of the table to my cupped hand.

“My brother’s doing crazy shit for love, and you’re doing this?”

I stilled. My entire body stiffened. My hand was tight as tension sparked in my pulse. I shook my head. No. I must have heard wrong. I flipped my eyes to his. “What did you say?”

A smirk fell on his lips. There was a devilish glint in his eyes. “You heard me.”

My cupped hand fell, and I watched the shavings on the floor. This was going to annoy him. I had to clean it up. “No.”

“Read the signals, cognata.”

I was. Wasn’t I? I felt silly even bringing it up. “He can’t love me.”

“Why don’t you find out?” He jerked his head towards the office, and before I knew it, I was striding towards it. My hand fell on the door handle, but I was yanked in as Nico pulled it open from the inside. “What happened to wanting a doll?” fell from his lips as I stumbled in and collided with him. His jaw tightened even as he broke my fall. His attitude told me he’d rather I fell flat on my face.

Lorenzo’s voice was tight and cool. “Come here, Principessa.”

I pulled away and walked over to him.

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