Page 101 of Runaway in the Mafia
I fell back against the counter. It felt like he’d sucked the life out of me. I’d never experienced it, but it almost felt like he made love to me. He pulled out quietly and walked over to the bin to dispose of the rubber. I was still in a daze when he came back to me. His hands soothed my still-hot thighs.
“I need to leave,” he said softly, before he dropped a kiss to my forehead and walked off.
“Work, huh?”
“Fucking bastards,” was all he said before disappearing to the bedroom.
This was good. Right? I had time to call Delhi. I could get a breather. Few hours without him. So why did my chest feel hollow already? By the time I crawled off the counter and walked into the bathroom, he was already out of the shower and dressed. His eyes caught my reflection in the mirror. Rolled his gaze from his shirt I was wearing to my bare toes. Pure possession in every inch of it. “What’re you going to do?”
I shrugged. “Catch up on all the work you didn’t allow me to do.”
His lips thinned. He was silent as he cuffed his shirt sleeves and put on his tie. It was all green today. Olive green.
“I might even start cooking. You know, in that kitchen of yours that hasn’t been used before. How long have you been living here, exactly?”
“Too fucking long.”
“We should make it a home,” I suggested, and bit my lip instantly. Shit, was I making a long-term thing of this?That’s what it means when you’re married, silly.Still, if I could, I would have stepped forward and swallowed those words back in one breath.
He stilled. His gaze was heavy when it clashed with mine in the reflection. “Do what you want.” He had a rough timbre to the edges of his voice, like rich wood left untreated. It was grainy and subtle, and it caught me when I was fragile and ripped me apart. “But it’s already home with you in it.”
My heart squeezed. I worked my throat to say something and came up with air.
He turned and rested his hip against the sink, agitation rolling off his body. His reluctance to leave me was endearing.
Then he stalked up to me and gripped my chin. His eyes filled with frustration. “You run and I’ll come after you,capisti?”
I didn’t even want to run. But I couldn’t tell him that. “Where would I run?” I asked softly.
“Where would you indeed? There’s nowhere you can hide that I won’t find you.”
Turnedout he was my home too. I had thought his house was beautiful. One of those magazine-worthy homes that made you yearn to live in them like amaharani. I hated it without him. The silence screamed. Reminded me of another silent house, with concrete walls and cold showers. Everything was too quiet. Too new. The last time I’d been in a house alone was in London, and it brought up all kinds of memories that made my skin itch. A dribble of sweat pooled down my back. My hands were clammy as they gripped my phone.Two hours. I lasted for two hours.
“Ciao,Ahana.” Ada’s familiar voice soothed my beating heart for a second.
“Can I come over?” I blurted out.
She didn’t even ask why. “Of course. Lia and I will come and get you.”
VITALE
The last thing I wanted to do was to leave my new wife alone. But my fucking underboss decided he needed me to close the deal with Andrea. A request he regretted. I had closed the deal alright. One that had all the cons for us and none of the pros. All my fault. Sergio had yelled at me. And I couldn’t even disagree.
Only two things were on my mind. My wife and how to keep her from running.
I’d known the second I’d set my eyes on her that she was going to be a distraction. A new addiction worse than any cigar I could wrap my hands around and puff. This craving of mine was my hands fisted around silky strands and her pussy wrapped around my thick cock. No matter how many voices I heard around me, I couldn’t drown the sound of her moans beneath me.
I thought I wanted her in my bed. Buried in my silk sheets. But it was quickly becoming apparent that it was more than that. I wanted her at my house. Waiting for me on the couch. Maybe we could even remove that plastic and cook a meal together or something. I didn’t care. Fuck, if she wanted to, I’d demolish the whole thing and build her a new house. One that she felt was home. Because I meant what I’d told her. I just wanted her to be my fucking home.
I’d fled the meeting and dropped by Mansi. As if the fresh black ink on my forearm would keep her from slipping through my life like a shadow on veiled curtains. I couldn’t stop thisparanoia. Couldn’t stop the itchiness riding my skin. She wasn’t telling me everything, and one day I’d come home and she’d be gone. And if she figured out the tracking chip I’d placed in that diamond on her locket… if she took it off, I’d lose her forever. Even if I told her I’d find her no matter where she ran, the reality was she knew how to hide. That thought alone was enough to burn an ulcer through my stomach walls.
The guards I’d posted reluctantly, even though I valued my privacy, waved me through as I drove through my gates. At least if she ran, I’d know instantly.
My steps hurried on the marble as I let myself in. But it only took me two steps in to realise she wasn’t home. The house was too quiet, not the kind of quiet when someone’s home. A rush of blood flooded my head, and a pounding headache thrummed within my forehead. I couldn’t get myself to think clearly. I burst out of the front door and bellowed at the men at the gate. “Where the fuck is my wife?”
They looked at me like I’d gone mad. I had. All her fucking fault. I proved it by taking my gun out and aiming it at them when they didn’t respond fast enough to my liking. “Where. The. Fuck. Is. My. Wife?”
One of them dropped to his knees, his hands held abreast. The other was more courageous. Stepped out slowly towards me. “She went with your mother, boss.”
