Page 4 of Mafia King's Surprise Baby

“What about you?” I asked.

“I wanted some peace and quiet, before…”

Before she left the next day. She was going to a boarding-slash-finishing school in Switzerland for the next two years.

“I’m disturbing you. I should go—”

Her hand with the long, bony fingers clasped mine as I started to get up.

“No. Stay. I like having you here.”

I sat back down.

“You know why, Leo?”

“No. Why?”

“Because you don’t judge me.”

“Come on. Nobody’s judging you—”

“They all are.”

If she’d sounded like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, I would’ve laughed and pulled her to me in a side hug. The fact she didn’t, it made me pause. Something wasn’t right in her world. I’d never stopped to think about it, but she’s a daughter of the Mafia. Whole other set of rules to live by for them, unlike us boys who’ll one day take over. Girls are bred to melt into the background and come forward only to be married off and dance to the tune set by their husband.

“Can I ask you for something, Leo? You won’t be mad?”

“Of course not.”

How could I, when it just dawned on me what sort of restricted life she was embarking on now she was growing into a woman?

I waited for her question, but it never came.

Instead, Bianca Bonucci turned my way, leaned on her hand, and pressed her lips to mine. One second, two. Then, she retreated, and I was still too stunned to react.

“Thank you for my first kiss,” she said, then got up and went back inside.

I can still recall her face as she stared at me in that moment, lit by the moonlight in an ethereal glow. She wasn’t a child then—she was a girl.

And now, it’s the woman staring back at me as I focus on herface.

“May I?”

Again, before I can answer her, she’s doing it. Except, this time, she isn’t kissing me. She’s undoing my bow tie and then expertly tying it back with deft flicks of her fingers. Occasionally, her knuckles brush against the skin of my neck.

Can she feel the shivers coursing down my spine from her touch?

Does she know what she’s doing to me, not just in my pants, but in my blood? In my entire being?

I’m suddenly parched for her, needing to drown in her, stave all my hunger through her. Desire, lust, wanting, need—they’re all coursing through me like electrical signals gone haywire.

“There. All done.”

She pats my shoulder, then all too quickly, she’s turned away. Her ass swings side to side provocatively in that skin-tight dress, though I know she’s not putting on a show. Bianca Bonucci walks like sin itself.

“Don’t be late,” she says to Mattia, then she’s gone.

There’s a collective exhale in the room, like her being here sucked in all the oxygen and all of us men had to make do with what we’d pulled into our lungs already. Well, all of us except Mattia. And Angelo, too, with his psycho wife.

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