Page 128 of Dirty Mafia Torment
And drawers I haven’t even opened yet.
I’m vibrating. Like a girl locked inside a Rodeo Drive boutique, wild-eyed with my father’s missing credit card in hand, ready to shop till I drop.
I close the doors slowly, savoring the possibilities, and lean back against the armoire.
Renzo has no idea what’s coming.
And I can’t wait to replace every bad memory with one I’ll never want to forget.
I’m quickly learning,what Riley wants, Riley gets.
It’s a surprising observation, considering the A-hole is involved. But I love Riley, and am silently cheering her on.
She joined me earlier, and we sat poolside, chatting about Los Angeles and New York, and doing an Olympic-level job of avoiding the ever-growing mafia population swarming the villa. Any mafiosi who so much glanced in our direction got barked at to get lost. Sandro’s actual words: “Keep your dicks in your pants and your asses inside.”
Charming, right?
Riley just rolled her eyes, used to his charm.
When Renzo saw me in the white bikini, Quasimodo’s child or not, he froze, licked his lips like a hungry wolf, and proceeded to mentally undress me with such intensity I felt like dessert. I might be a bit beat up, but I’ve still got it.
“Wine?” he asks now, seated beside me, his hand casually claiming my thigh. I shift closer, loving his touch.
“Please.”
His eyes twinkle with the knowledge I’m asking for more than wine. Our eyes lock, and for a second, everything around us fades. It’s just the two of us figuring out what this is.
Sex, for sure. I lick my lips.
He squeezes my thigh.
But there’s more to us than that. An undeniable attraction … Some might even call it an obsession.
“I can’t believe this,” Sandro interrupts.
I glare at him, except he’s too busy searching for Riley, who’s gone to the bathroom.
Renzo grabs a butter roll and nails him in the head, stopping the search.
Lord, do I quickly collect the butter knives? Something tells me a food fight, Beneventi-style, gets bloody.
“Dick.”
“Bastard,” Renzo smoothlyreplies.
“Keep looking at her with those pathetic eyes. No wonder Alessia didn’t want you.”
Renzo stiffens.
“Alessia?” Only one Alessia comes to mind, and she’s married to their father. “Didn’t want Renzo? What do you mean?”
Riley appears, delaying Sandro’s response, and takes her seat next to him. Noticing we’re quiet, she asks, “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” Renzo waves a dismissive hand. “Just your boyfriend admitting he loved the spa at the Sicily resort. Wants to repeat the experience after we deal with the Grassi issue.”
That’s … definitely not what we were talking about.
“Aw, I’d love that.” She kisses Sandro, all sunshine and candy.
