Page 129 of La Dolce Vita

The boss told everyone gathered the news. The Donna and her sister were Mancinis. It was official. Who knew what the future would bring.

The door to his room opened and closed. He froze. He was certain the soft click indicated someone had entered. He reached over to the top of the commode and picked up his gun. He waited. He listened. There was not another sound. Never one to hesitate, Carlo kept the gun raised and moved to the door. When he stepped out, prepared to shoot and be shot, Adara gasped. She dropped her purse and the room key in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" he shouted.

"I...I...I..." she stammered.

"I could have fucking killed you. Damn it!"

She put a hand to her heart. She nodded that she believed him. He frowned. According to Leonardo, she had put up a pretty good fight. Kicked his ass to escape. Why in the hell did she return? And she looked different? She wore a pair of jeans, a cutoff shirt that had the Eiffel tower on the front. Her long beautiful curly hair was even more vibrant and wavy as if styled that way on purpose. The locks framed her face like a dark cloud, and they were streaked with pink highlights. And those eyes, the color of ginger, stared into his, never blinking.

"I'm back. I... if, look if you want to hire me, to you know, I can do it. But I, ah, I set the price."

Carlo frowned. “Hire you for what?”

"Three hundred lire a night. And I come and go as I please. Those are the terms."

"So you are a whore?" he asked. "You seemed confused about me paying before."

"I'm not a whore. I'm an opportunist. This is a job I can do until I have enough money to get the hell away from you and Alek Baldamenti," she replied.

"What if I think I should pay less?" he asked and looked her over again.

"How much less?" she asked.

Carlo smirked.

"No sex. That is what three hundred buys you. Anything else you pay more. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

He chuckled. He stepped to her. "You think you can dictate anything to me?"

She smiled. "Did your little hitman tell you what happened to him when he got too close?"

Carlo nodded. "So you’re a fighter too?"

"I'm a lot of things. But right now I'm tired. And from the looks of it so are you. Do you accept my terms or not?" she asked.

Carlo stared at her for a moment. He then looked over to the bed. She was right. He was tired. And he wanted to sleep. "I accept... for now."

She nodded. She walked over to the bed and began to undress. Carlo went to his dresser and picked up the bottle of wine he took from the vineyard. He opened it and drank from it as he watched her. She stripped down to her panties. She then went to her purse and retrieved the bottle of Shalimar she brought with her. He paused mid swig when she rubbed the lotion between her breasts, and then down her stomach. The room filled with the sweet aroma of Marietta. When Adara got under the covers and turned off the light, she looked like Marietta in the dark.

Carlo’s heart began to race. Last night it worked. Tonight it had a different effect on him. And he couldn't quite pin down the emotion because it wasn't one he was accustomed to. Then it hit him. He was afraid.

Carlo set the wine bottle down. He'd taken down half the bottle. It was enough to boost his courage to lay in bed with a woman and pretend to be with his best friend’s wife. He removed his slacks and joined her. The moment he was in bed she reached for him. Surprised by her welcoming touch, he hesitated at first. And then he relaxed and rested his head against her breasts. She stroked his hair the way Shae often did after they made love. Her nails gently scraped his scalp. Women were soft and tender at times. He'd hated and resented the part of him that needed a woman. He'd punished many women to suppress his urge to be weak. And the truth was, he was weak. Because the minute her soft breasts and skin were pressed to his face, he slipped into that comfortable feeling of being normal. And it was enough.

***

Mirabella closed her eyes. The water was tepid, but warming. She stood there under the spray and waited. Ten minutes later he came. She didn't look back. She didn't speak or acknowledge him. He drew the curtain to the shower. It wasn't big and spacious as the one in Melanzana. This one had a sit-down tub, and could only fit two people at the most, if they were standing. So it was no surprise when he stepped up behind her, that his body was closely pressed to hers. He carried with him the woodsy musk of being outside in the muggy barn all night. Giovanni wrapped one arm around the front of her from over her left shoulder, preventing her from moving. He pressed in so close he could easily enter her if he wished. Instead, the bone of his erection tucked in between both halves of her buttocks. A little move of his hips caused his meat to glide as his other hand stroked and caressed her pussy.

Mirabella’s eyes did not open.

Giovanni's tongue had traced the outer shell of her ear before it dipped inside. And just as it did he rubbed the suds and water coating her body down to the delta between her thighs before he inserted his middle finger into her vagina. She rose on her toes and parted her knees. The masterful way he did all of this, pulled down on her insides and made her shiver as all the blood rushed to the very spot he touched.

"I'm sorry, Gio. For..."

"Tacere--be still..."

She obeyed, except for her head. She turned her face to look back at him, and the moist tip of his tongue crept in between her parted lips. The words were lost on her last breath. From that moment forward she could only breathe as one with him. He kissed her with a slow and teasing manner. She wanted to turn around so she could kiss him thoroughly, but he didn't let her. He wouldn't let her. And his finger stroked in and out of her. The motion, the steamy from the shower, the kiss, all of it left her knees shaking. She was on her toes, the water spraying over her body and ran streams down his arm, wrist, and hand, to her vagina. Making her wet and ready.

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