Page 89 of Born into Mayhem
I cup her face and lightly drag my thumb along her jaw. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be making it go away very soon.”
“You think?”
“I know,piccola vipera.”
Her fingers dig into my waist as I look over and nod at Sandro, letting him know it’s time to go. He grins down at the woman in his arms and tells her something that makes her laugh and shake her head at him before he lets her go and follows us off the dance floor. I don’t bother trying to spot Sasha, knowing he’s already watching and headed our way.
“Leaving so soon,SignoreAlessi?”
I try not to grimace at the sound of Claudio’s voice or to show how much he disgusts me. I manage to keep my face blank, but Mia hears my pained groan and slips her fingers into the waistband of my pants, wiggling them around until she’s under my shirt and she feels the bare skin of my back beneath her.
Her touch is more soothing than she’ll ever be able to understand, and it’s the only thing that makes dealing with Claudio tolerable. The smile I give him feels a lot more genuine when coupled with the soft drag of Mia’s nails along my skin.
“Sorry, Claudio, but we need to leave early,” I tell him. “We appreciate the invitation.”
Before he can get offended, Mia smiles at him and adds, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bellantoni, and to be able to see your beautiful home.”
“You’re welcome anytime,SignoraAlessi,” he says, nearly salivating at her praise.
“I’ll remember that.” She looks up at me and grins. “I’ll make sure my husband brings me back to Italy soon.”
Claudio claps his hands, thrilled at the friendship he already imagines is blossoming between us. He’s in for a rude awakening, because I have no intention of ever stepping foot inside this monstrosity of a house ever again. I save that revelation for another day, though. For now, I smile at the pompous ass and then lead my beautiful wife away from his perverted stare.
“He has such a hard-on for you,” Sandro mutters when we’re far enough away.
“I feel so sorry for the women he hired,” Mia says. “I hope they’re at least getting one hell of a payment for this.”
“I’ve always heard he pays well,” I say, “and he’s not abusive. They just have to endure the sight and sound of him naked and grunting.”
“Gross.” Mia cringes, and I squeeze her shoulder.
“Don’t worry. You won’t be seeing him again,” I tell her.
“Glad to hear it,” she says right as we reach the door and Sasha comes walking over, smoothly slipping in behind her like he’d planned it this way from the beginning. I have no idea what he’s been up to or where he’s been hiding, but I don’t see any visible blood on him, so I’m assuming everything went okay.
Once outside, we wait as the valet brings our cars around. Our men are already waiting in the SUVs, and when I help Mia into my Ferrari, the first SUV pulls in front to lead the way out while Sandro and Sasha get into the Porsche.
“Well, that was interesting,” Mia says. She looks out the window, trying to see into the darkness beyond Claudio’s security lights, but as soon as we turn onto the main road, she gives up and settles back in her seat.
“You’re the only thing that made that tolerable,” I tell her. Bringing my hand to my face, I smell the fingers that were inside her, groaning at the scent that still lingers on them. “I would endure anything if the end result left me coated in the intoxicating scent of your pussy.”
“I’ll remember that,” she says, and then sighs when she hears her phone buzzing from the glovebox. She didn’t bring a purse, and the dress didn’t allow her to carry anything, so she’d left it in the car before we went inside. Digging it out, she looks at the screen. “It’s my dad.”
“The man who’s going to want me dead very soon,” I say right before she answers it.
“Hey, Dad.”
I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I do hear the soft hitch of her breath when I slide my hand further up her thigh.
“Yeah, everything is fine,” she says, making me smile when she grabs my hand and tries to push it back to her knee. “Uh-huh, everyone is being super nice, and the house is beautiful.”
I soften my hand, and as soon as she does the same, I move it, slipping it through the slit that runs up her leg so I can feel the bare skin of her thigh beneath my palm.
“Yep,” she says, her voice a little clipped before she adds, “Dario’s behaving himself.”
I squeeze her thigh at that and trail my fingers higher.
“We just showed our faces at some swanky party, so we’re guessing it won’t be long before this douche makes a move,” she says, and I bite back a laugh imagining how Leonardo would react to being called a douche.
