Page 82 of Born into Mayhem
“SignoraAlessi,” he says, and when he leans in like he’s going to kiss me, Dario pulls me in closer and angles me in a way that makes it clear Claudio won’t be putting his lips on me anytime soon. He hesitates for a second, and it’s all kinds of awkward, before he plasters that smile back on and gives me a respectful nod. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Bellantoni,” I say, and then I force myself to add, “You have a beautiful home.” Unable to resist, I motion towards the oil painting Dario had just been telling me about. “What a beautiful picture.”
Claudio’s smile grows even bigger. “Thank you. It’s Apollo, the god of music, poetry, and dance.”
I feel like he’s waiting for me to say it looks like him, but I know I’m not that good of a liar. The face? Yeah, I’ll give him that since it was obviously intentional, but the muscular pecs and eight-pack abs? Not somuch, and there’s no way I can tell a lie that big and not laugh while doing it.
After a few more awkward seconds, Claudio turns his attention to my brother. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“No, we haven’t,” Sasha says, and then he looks away and scans the room. If I had to guess by Claudio’s expression, I’d say what my brother just did was the equivalent of whipping his dick out and pissing all over Claudio's initialed, mosaic floors.
“I hope you’re serving wine from your own vineyard tonight,” Alessandro says, swooping in to save the day. “It’s some of the best I’ve ever tasted.” He gives Claudio an easy smile and the man puffs up a bit at the praise. A second later Sandro gives a low whistle when he sees a woman in a gorgeous red dress walk by. She gives Claudio a grin, and I know I have to be looking at one of his paid escorts.
“Is she your date tonight?” Sandro asks.
Claudio’s an ass, so he can’t help but give a smug grin and say, “One of them.”
Sandro gives a good-natured laugh, relieving the tension before Claudio walks off to greet someone else.
“Well, we’re off to a good start,” Sandro mutters. He looks over at his brother. “Try not to kill anyone.”
When a waiter walks by with a tray of drinks, we each take a glass of wine. Sandro raises his in a quick toast before walking off to mingle.
“I’m going to take a look around,” Sasha says. “I’ll be watching you, though. Signal if you need me.”
“I will,” I tell him, but I doubt I’ll need help, especially with the death grip Dario has on my hip.
Sasha effortlessly disappears into the crowd, ignoring all the curious looks and the obvious interest from several of the women. He’s wearing his mask tonight, so even though he’s not beaming like our host, he’s at least not scaring the hell out of everyone.
When an older man walks over, Dario gives a genuine smile and returns his greeting in a way that he hadn’t done for Claudio. I noticethat it’s an air kiss this time, unlike the lingering kiss to the cheek he’d given me.
Stepping back, Dario says, “I’d like you to meet Mia, my wife.” He smiles down at me. “Amore mio, this is Don Santoro.”
Don Santoro may be in what I’m guessing is his late fifties or early sixties, but the man still exudes a great deal of power. It radiates off him, but he still waits for Dario to give the okay before he leans in to kiss both my cheeks.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Mia,” he says, and I quickly decide that I like the man. He’s showing Dario the respect he deserves without being a sniveling coward about it like Claudio. This man has a spine. I can see it in the way he holds himself. He’s not going to get on his knees to kiss my husband’s ass, but he is going to treat him with the honor Dario deserves. He’s representing the Alessi family tonight, and an insult to Dario is an insult to Dominic.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I tell him.
They switch to Italian, and whatever is said makes Dario laugh. I have a feeling they’re talking about me, but I don’t understand a word of the beautiful language, so I let my eyes run around the room while Dario’s fingers lightly graze my back.
Several of the men are openly staring at me, but it’s the women who draw my attention. I’ve never seen so many pissed-off faces aimed in my direction before. I can’t help but wonder how many of them have fucked my man. I’m guessing a good bit of them. I’d feel a lot better if they all weren’t so stunningly perfect.
Dario pulls my attention back to him, and before I know it I’m meeting Don Esposito and his wife. I smile and try to look like my feet aren’t killing me. I take a healthy drink of wine while Mrs. Esposito tries to pretend she’s not dying of curiosity and wanting to know every detail of who I am and how I managed to snag a man like Dario Alessi.
I tip back the last of my wine and hope Leonardo shows up soon so we can get this thing rolling. The faster he sees me, the faster we can get the hell out of here. There are too many eyes on me, and I’m all tooaware that they’re all armed and all I’ve got on me is this very thin dress.
I hear Dario’s annoyed grunt right before I hear a sultry voice speaking Italian. When I turn my head, I’m not at all surprised to see the voice belongs to a gorgeous woman. No one can sound like that and be ugly. The woman standing in front of us is pure sex appeal, even I can see that, the kind of woman who walks into a room and all eyes immediately go to her. She’s so tall that her heels put her at an almost equal height with Dario, and the red dress she’s wearing accentuates every perfect inch of her. A long slit running up the side reveals a slender, toned leg, and she has the kind of body that makes men drool—long legs, curvy hips and ass, small waist, and full breasts that she’s made sure are on prominent display. Without anyone having to tell me, I know in my gut that Dario has been with this woman, and that knowledge is like a lead weight in my stomach.
Whoever the hell she is, she hasn’t given me more than a cursory look. All her focus is on him, and it’s starting to really piss me off. She leans into him, and for one horrible moment I think he’s going to do the cheek kissing thing with her, but he pulls back and says something to her in Italian in a sharp tone that has her pulling her head back. Whatever he said, it has several people around us lifting a shocked brow and shamelessly watching to see what will happen next.
Dario’s hand never leaves my back, and he pulls me even closer as he tells her something else that has one older man opening his mouth in surprise while his wife tries to hide her laugh behind a cough.
The woman’s honey-brown eyes meet mine for a second before Dario cups the back of my head and kisses me. This time there’s nothing chaste about it. His fingers dig into me, holding me tightly as he coaxes my mouth open and kisses me like I’m the most important thing in the world to him and he wants everyone to know it. It’s as loving as it is erotic, and if anyone arrived here with doubts about how he feels about me, they won’t be leaving with them.
With one last swipe of his tongue, he pulls a soft moan from me, and only when our lips are separated and I feel the cool air on them doI remember that I’m not wearing any goddamn underwear. My arousal coats my inner thighs, and if that wasn’t bad enough, as soon as he stands back up to his full height, he runs his eyes over my chest as my face heats up. His jaw tightens, and I see the possessive anger in his eyes. There was no way to wear a bra with this dress, and thanks to that kiss he just gave me, I know my nipples are rock hard, and the thin fabric isn’t doing shit to hide the barbells running through them.
It takes me a second to get myself under control, and then I do the only thing I can do. I lift my chin and own it. This is my body, and this is what I’ve chosen to do to it. Fuck all of them if they’re going to get judgmental on me.
