Page 80 of Vows of a Mobster
I nodded in response, taking a drink of my scotch.Yes, if this didn’t highlight our age difference, I wasn’t sure what would.While it had been almost three decades for me, she had been out of college for barely five years.
“Yes, I studied Business at Yale,” I told her and surprise flashed across her face. She almost looked impressed.
“Well, I didn’t see that one coming,” she muttered under her breath.
I chuckled. “What did you expect?”
“Not sure, to be honest. But it wasn’t that.” She turned to Antonio. “And you, did you go to school in Italy?”
He nodded. “Born and bred, then this guy dragged me over the pond.”
She chuckled softly. “You should have jumped off that boat,” she teased him.
“Right you are,” he cackled along. “Well, I’m off to take care of some things,” Antonio got up and cleaned up his spot. “Thank you for the dinner, Brianna.”
“Sure thing.”
He exited the kitchen, leaving Brianna alone with me. I had been looking forward to being alone tonight with her since we got home and I had to leave her to take care of business. Neither one of us spoke, the music from her iPhone playing in the background. She didn’t seem uncomfortable with the silence. Sipping her wine, she actually seemed at ease and lost in her thoughts. She was a unique woman. Usually, they always felt the need to talk or ask questions. It was one of the main reasons I never had a woman move in with me. It was the reason I never kept long-term relationships. They always wanted something.
And this beauty in front of me expected nothing from me, despite this extraordinary attraction between us.
“Have you explored the house?” She startled at my voice, and fuck if that wasn’t bad for my ego. She forgot about me sitting right next to her. We’d have to remedy that. I wanted her to crave me, like I craved her. She consumed my thoughts from the moment she spilled coffee on me and here she seemed completely unfazed by me. Except when I touched her. Then she burned along with me, her desires reflecting mine.
“No, I didn’t,” she replied. “I wasn’t sure where it’s okay to go.”
Shit, I was no good at cohabitating. First, I forced her to stay with me and then, didn’t even bother showing her around so she was stuck in our bedroom.
I took her hand and helped her onto her feet. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
She followed, leaving her glass behind. “Want to take the wine with you?” I offered.
Shaking her head, she smiled. “No, I better not.” I knew she was keeping her head and guard up.
Hand in hand, we walked out of the kitchen and commenced the tour. I started with my office.
“This is probably where you’ll find me most of the time, unless I’m in the city,” I told her as we entered my office. Her eyes studied the room, gliding through the room in silence, soaking it all in. Somehow it didn’t surprise me when she stopped in front of the mantel studying the few pictures of my parents. I waited, watching her.
“You look like your dad,” she uttered softly, throwing me a glance over her shoulder. “Same eyes, facial structure. But definitely your mother’s nose. She was very pretty.”
The truth was all my memories of my mother were bitter. She died when I was fifteen, right after giving birth to Marcus. After she passed away, the only thing that forever stuck vividly with me was her constant tears and rage accusing my father of cheating. There was always some theatrics and drama around her. Poor bastard never cheated, although he didn’t love her. She was unreasonably jealous. It was the reason I never kept women around. Those memories resonated with me.
Brianna’s words of comparison made me wonder who she looked like, her mom or her dad. It would have to be her mother since she said her father was Swedish. Comparing her daughter to her father’s side of the family led me to believe they had fair hair and eyes.
She came back to me. The differences between us were stark. After my shower, I changed into another suit. She was in yoga pants and a comfortable crew neck shirt with her hair up in the ponytail. She looked even younger than her twenty-five years.
I was a hardcore businessman and ruthless mobster; she was artsy and gentle. Our age difference was evident. As my dear brother pointed out, I was one year shy of being twice her age. But none of it deterred me from this need to have her as mine. It would seem the only thing we had in common was that we both kept our guard up.
“Any more rooms?” she asked. “Or are we ready for bed?”
Her cheeks colored with blush at the question, but she didn’t break her gaze.
Bending my head down, I gave her the opportunity to push me away or step away from me. I waited, giving her a chance. She lifted on her tiptoes and met me halfway. Her soft lips brushed against mine, and I pulled her body into mine, deepening the kiss. She tasted of the fruity wine she’d drunk during dinner. Combined with her own unique taste, it was intoxicating and exhilarating.
It was everything and still not enough. Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer. She moaned in my mouth and I nipped her bottom lip. She was the only one that could unleash all my restraint and control and she did it so effortlessly.
Twenty-Six
Brianna
