Page 94 of Mafia King: Matteo
Alena calls in response to my text. Her enthusiastic voice pulls me out of my melancholy mood. I informed her that my brother would be arriving soon and that I didn’t want her working past five. She agrees, and I’m relieved she’s on board with safety concerns.
I’m looking forward to meeting Dmitry and Izzy Volkov. I’ve heard so much about them that I’m anxious to spend the evening with them. We’ll be the talk of the gala as two powerful families sitting at the same table. It’s the first time in history that the two powerhouses have been in the same building without an attempted hit.
Perhaps I should wear Kevlar under my costume.
Alena is excited when she joins me for dinner. She brought her portfolio to the table, enthusiastically pulled printouts out of it, and showed me her team’s idea for the rooms. She even showed me the hallways lit with sconces.
“It’s elegant. I love the red and gold colors. Very regal. I also want the indoor pool to look better. The plastic chairs are what I’d find in an inferior hotel chain. I want wicker loungers. I know the towels are a service and can only be white, but the quality needs to improve.”
“Sure, that’s easy to arrange. I’ll take a look at it on Monday.”
“Very well.”
We retire to the family room, and I start a fire. Federico serves us cannoli and Frangelico. Alena feeds me a cannoli, and I find that even with the current events that have dropped on my doorstep, they haven’t dampened my desire for her.
I use my finger to paste cannoli filling on her lips before licking it off.
I apply more, and she goes to move her tongue to clean it off, but my lips are on hers before she can accomplish her mission. She returns my kiss, her arms slide around my neck, and my world is complete.
I sip the Frangelico and dribble it into her mouth when I kiss her. She sinks into the couch’s cushions, falling on her back and pulling me to her.
I run my hand through her hair, my cock presses against her thigh.
“If you’re not naked in my bed in the next minute, I’m fucking you here,” I threaten.
She squeals and bolts out of the room. I follow behind her and enjoy the curvy globes of her buttocks swaying as she runs. She reaches the stairs and takes the steps two at a time. My heart pounds in my chest as I jog to catch up. She’ll be the death of me, and I couldn’t be a happier man.
CHAPTER 32
ALENA
The wedding planner and two staffers arrive by mid-morning. Her name is Francis, and she’s dressed in a stylish business suit. Federico delivered us scones, tea, and coffee in the cozy room where Matteo and I made love in front of the fireplace. The French doors let in the morning light, and Federico stirred the fire that had burned low.
Francis pulls out the floor plans of Matteo’s house, and I’m stunned. It’s much larger than I expected. It’s on an island on the East Coast called Manalapan. The backyard is white sand that runs into the Atlantic Ocean.
“I suggest canopies to shade guests. We’ll use white fold-up chairs, and the patio will be covered with a wooden dance floor. The DJ will sit on a platform and announce the wedding party and, of course, you and your husband. Mr. Borrelli informed me that it will be roughly three hundred people.”
“That many? Well, he has a large family. We’ll need hotel rooms for guests,” I suggest.
“We’re making phone calls. It will be the beginning of Spring Break, but the island isn’t the place for that. The hotels are inland. We’ll hire a shuttle to bring guests over to the house. What is your color preference for the wedding party?”
“As for colors, I guess anything would go with the white sand. What are the popular colors this year?”
“Wine shades go well outside.” She opens a sampler book that contains wedding invitations.
“Oh, I like the marsala. It’s deeper than burgundy. That would look nice in flowers on the invitation and cake. White china plates, white invitations with flowers at the top, and the marsala envelopes would be pretty.” It all unfolds before my eyes.
I can see the event. I want it to be elegant but simple. “Oh, and at the end of the rows of chairs, I’d like white baby’s breath with sage leaves. Can we have that draped over the tables on the patio and in the house where we’ll be dining?”
“Would you like to eat outside? We can arrange that. We have banquet tables that can be decorated.”
“What about rain?”
“We can provide tents.”
I think about the expensive wedding dress and sand in my shoes. “How will I walk on the sand?”
“Many brides use ballet slippers or flip flops, then change into heels for the reception. Do you have a second dress?”
