Page 76 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

Her big curls cascaded over her shoulders and tumbled down her back.

I glanced upward at the dark sky and remarked, “The sky is full of stars.”

Claire tilted her head back, marveling at the view. “It truly is.”

A staff member held the door as I led her inside. With her lips slightly parted in awe, we ventured deeper into the museum. Soft classical music drifted throughout. Two servers greeted us—one balanced a tray of wine while the other carried hors d’oeuvres.

“Is this a cocktail party?” she asked, eyes scanning the elegant setup.

“A private cock-tail party,” I said with a wink.

Claire blushed. “Vino.”

She plucked a cocktail plate from a high-top table draped in white linen and began sampling the hors d’oeuvres. “We have The Met all to ourselves. This is surreal.”

I sipped from my champagne flute as Claire enjoyed a prosciutto wrapped date while we admired an exhibit.

As she walked from exhibit to exhibit, she detailed many pieces of art, and I absorbed every word because watching her light up made it all the more worthwhile.

Claire deserved nothing less than to be treated like a queen. My queen. A mafia queen.

I stepped behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and rested my chin on her head. “You look breathtaking, Claire,” I murmured. My lips found her neck as she leaned into my broad chest. “When we get home, I’m peeling that tux off and riding your dick like a cowgirl.”

I chuckled. “I fucking look forward to watching you ride my dick.”

“On our way home, could we grab a couple of slices? The appetizers are nice, but I’m really craving some pizza.”

Sure, there were plenty of finger foods available if she was still hungry, but it was clear she had a pizza craving.

“Yeah, sure.” Maybe my soon-to-be fiancée was pregnant.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

Gripping her hand, we walked to the exit. Claire thanked the attendant at the door for letting us enjoy the museum without interruption.

He gave me a knowing look, aware that I’d shelled out a lot to rent The Met for the night.

“It was a pleasure having you both,” he said with a Dominican accent. “Please come again.” He smiled.

When we reached the center of the staircase landing, I paused. The lights casting down along the sides of the building created the perfect ambiance.

“One day, you’ll grace these stairs again on your way to The Met Gala,” I said, taking both of her hands and turning her to face me.

Her brown eyes sparkled. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Thanks for believing in me, Vino.”

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart.”

I dropped to one knee.

Her breath hitched. “Vino… what are you doing?”

I pulled out a custom yellow ring box. “You said I needed more bright colors in my life, right?”

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