Page 5 of Hustler in the Mafia

The woman in front of me was the epitome of calmness while he fumbled like a gawky teenager. She emptied the wine from her glass in one gulp and continued shoving the food like it was a competition. While she chewed and Peppe mopped the table, I focused on the Bordeaux drip edging on the right corner of her lip. The urge to lick it off brought a new level of self-control.

The table was clean, and Peppe's hovering was pissing me off. I wanted her alone. All to myself.

“Fuck off.” The fool almost stumbled in his rush to get out of the room. The door banged on his way out as he rushed off to the servants’ quarters on the right side of the house.

Finally, it was just me and her. There was a shift in the air like we both became aware of it at the same time. It was heavy and electric. Her hands quivered ever so lightly even though her eyes were bold, watching me while she ate. I couldn’t tell if she was scared, anxious, or turned on. Her hair was greasy and dark. I wondered what the colour would be when it got a good wash. Dark brown, I thought. Would it feel soft if I wrapped my fist around it? My cock gave a painful jerk at the thought of it.

She finished her food off in record time. No surprise.

In that time, I had made two decisions.

Florina. I was going to call her Rina. It would sound so much better on my lips when she rode me. Which automatically brought me to the second decision. She was coming with me.

I shoved the chair back and stood up. She immediately jumped up, her body on full alert. I was a big man. Broad and tall. Six feet four, which meant I towered over almost everyone. So, the fact that she was small was no surprise. Something she tried to hide by pulling her chin up and stiffening her stance. It only made her look fragile, like I could break her if a huff of my breath touched her. It didn’t stop me from wanting to try.

“Wash your hands.” I jerked my head towards the kitchen. “And then you’re coming with me.”

She didn’t argue. She was more resigned, like she knew her fate. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I followed her movements as she walked over to the sink. She washed her plate and glass clumsily, like she hadn’t handled either in a very long time. Her dress used to be some other colour but was now brown and in tatters. It was three sizes too large on her tiny frame. My imagination ran wild with what she would look like without it.

My tongue darted out, and I licked my lip just as she turned around to wipe her hands on the towel. Her lips stiffened, and her eyes darkened.Is she scared, or is she turned on?I wasn’t sure which one I wanted it to be. Both, perhaps?

“Let’s go.” I pulled the kitchen door open and waited for her to walk out. And just because she wasil mio passerotto, I grasped her arm when she passed me and held her in place. Wouldn’t put it past this one to make a run for it, and that would be too bad, wouldn’t it?

We left the main villa behind and trudged through the gravel path. Her breath was shallow and uneven. Mine was calm and deep. The night was dark, and the air cool. Our men lurked around in the shadows, so I kept her to my left between the side parapet wall and my body, hiding her from view.

I knew better. I should have knocked on Rosa’s door and handed her over to her. Antonio’s trusted maid, with her lifelong service to the family, would have been a good mother figure for Rina. It would have been better for her than coming with me in the dark like my dirty little secret. But I guess even though my suit was clean, my intentions were just that. Dirty.

We were at my little house on the outskirts of the inside boundary in a matter of a few minutes. The front door creaked as I shoved it open, and the dim light painted the tiny hallway with a warm glow. I didn’t get attached to many things in my life other than Antonio and his family. But I could say I wasoddly attached to my house. It was tiny compared to the villa. But it was mine. The day that Antonio wrote this house under my name was one of the best days of my life. I locked the door behind me and strode further into the living room. Her footsteps followed behind me meekly.

The moment I entered the living room, I heard a soft thud and turned to find her on her knees.Fuck me!My brows furrowed even as she reached for my belt.Cazzo!I glared down at my hand, fisted in a death grip on hers. “What the fuck you doing?”

I might as well have yelled those words out because everything came to a standstill. My heartbeat, my pulse point. Except for my cock, which throbbed behind the zipper of my pants.

When I found her eyes, they were big and almost luminous as she stared at me with a cooked eyebrow and defiance. “Thanking you.”

Disgust crawled all over my skin. I couldn’t get away fast enough. Lurching back, I shoved her away from me. Agitation whirled inside me, but years of training made me only show my indifference. “If you want to thank me, use your fucking words,” I scoffed.Liar.My dick jerked behind my zipper, and my heart pounded in my ribcage like a racehorse galloping to the win.

What the hell was all the jargon falling out of my mouth? Didn’t I want her fucking body?Fuck!Of course I wanted her.

But not on her fucking knees as a thank you, like she’d thanked all the men before her.

“There’s a guest room upstairs with a bathroom,” I muttered through my gritted teeth. “Find it and make use of it. I am off to bed.”

As I strode upstairs, I didn’t know who I was more mad at. Her for offering her services or me for wanting her to want me more than as a mere fucking thank you.

CHAPTER THREE

FLORINA

What just happened? I followed the tight ass stalking up the stairs with my eyes. You’d think I was on fire. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Now that was something that had never happened before.

Unease rattled my nerves. Too many things happened that were new to me. A man leaving food out for me for days on end. A man putting a gun in another man’s face because of me…I think.A man refusing my mouth…

I pulled my gaze from his disappearing ass and dropped it to my brown scuffed sneakers. The laces were all twisted, and the plastic on the ends was chipped off. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep the thread together, so it was rapidly piling off, one thread at a time. These sneakers looked as out of place on the blue and white patterned tiled floor as I did standing in his pristine house. Both objects, dirty and damaged, were meant for outside in a dark alleyway. I looked around. Not here.

The house was huge. Not as big as the one I’d had my dinner in, but still, it was large. The shabby house I had lived in for mostof my life, which was made from clay and straw, would probably fit into the kitchen and with enough space leftover for another. I did a slow 360-degree turn. Didn’t want to move further and stain the pristine floor with the dirt on my feet. It was all so clean and neat and uncluttered. A massive fireplace and a sofa gulped down most of the space in the living room. The sofa was a black leather one. You’d think it would look intimidating. Instead, it looked old and welcoming. Like coming home to a childhood home full of memories. I swallowed the lump in my throat and glanced beyond to peek at the kitchen. Much like the bigger house, a row of dark wooden cabinets and a marble top greeted me. Except the marble here was a dark blue. Blue floors, blue worktops… he’d had a blue tie on…did the man like blue?

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