Page 60 of Empire of Temptation

I slid into the smooth leather seat, buckled in, and started the engine. When I pulled away from the curb I noticed she was quiet. “Is something wrong?” I asked.

“Are you kidnapping me?”

The accusation was an unwelcome reminder of my purpose in this country. “No. You’re free to stay here, though you might want to hear what I have planned first.”

“Then am I at least allowed to stop by my house and pack?”

“I already did that for you.”

She made a choking sound and glared at me in disbelief. “You broke into my house and went through my things?”

“Yes.”

“Luca, what the fuck?”

I shifted gears and dodged around a slow truck. “First, you need better security. It was embarrassingly easy to break in. Next, would you rather Aldo packed for you? I assumed you would want me to choose your sexy panties.”

“I’d rather choose my own sexy panties,” she snapped. “And you are really grating on my nerves.”

“Piccolina, you keep talking like that and I will find a better use for your mouth on this drive.”

“You wish!” She folded her arms.

Cazzo, the idea of her lips wrapped around my dick . . . “I do. And we have already established that you cannot resist me.”

“God, your ego . . . Do Italian women get off on your domineering arrogant attitude?”

“Yes, they do. Almost as much as American women.”

“Have you?—”

She closed her mouth abruptly, but I knew what she was going to ask. I said, “Not on this trip. But yes, years ago.”

Silent, she mulled that over for a long second. Then she said, “I thought mafia bosses were always in hiding.”

“Smart mafia bosses go wherever they like. It is the stupid ones who get caught.” Frowning, I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. Because I’d fucked Palmieri’s wife, everything was now at risk. Who was the stupid one now?

She was busy exploring the car, and for once I was glad she wasn’t paying attention to me. I didn’t want to talk any more about mafia bosses.

After she investigated the contents of the Maserati’s glove box, she closed the front. “So tell me why you’re dragging me to the city.”

“I have a meeting there.”

From the side of my eye I watched her angle toward me. “You are dragging me two and a half hours away to attend a meeting with you?”

I took the ramp onto the motorway. “Yes.”

“Luca, are you insane? I can’t go to a mafia meeting! I’m a restaurant owner. I don’t want to be a part of your illegal activities.”

I sighed heavily. I supposed I owed her an explanation, but I wasn’t used to someone yelling at me. The men in my life would never dare. “There will be nothing illegal about this meeting. I need a favor from someone else, another don. He’s at his woman’s show and refuses to meet with me unless I bring a date.”

“Why?”

“Because it can’t look like work.”

“So I’m your date.”

“Maybe. But only if you stop asking so many questions.”

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