Page 22 of Mafia Priest

The tears come easily as I let the memories I usually keep locked away surface. My pregnant mother on her knees outside the old church, blood soaking her hands as she applies pressure to the bullet holes in Papa’s chest, not realizing there are too many. Her premature labor from the stress of losing him. The sick fear Elise wouldn’t survive. Finding Mama’s lifeless body…

Salvatore takes my hand, risking the nun’s censure. But even she can’t fault him when tears are streaming down my face.

She pushes a box of tissues toward me, then says in Italian, “Perhaps we shouldn’t show her the news clip.”

Salvatore shakes his head. “She’ll see it eventually. Better to pull the Band-Aid off now,” he replies in English.

“As you think best.” Sighing, she stands. “My presence is required at Lauds, but take as much time here as you need.”

“Grazie, Madre Superiora,” he replies, voice low.

With a tissue, I dry my eyes. Taking slow, deep breaths, I shove the memories back down.

When the door closes, Salvatore kisses my forehead. Silently, he hands me his phone. It’s open to a BBC clip I’ve seen several times.

He takes my hand as we watch the Mercedes explode. When the clip cuts to a news anchor speculating on the events surrounding the death of “the respected businessman Marco Mancini,” I close out the video, setting the phone on the desk.

“I understand it must be difficult to watch,” Salvatore says slowly. “But you should know—”

“That Nonno made the tragic mistake of having an open flame near his oxygen tank?” I interrupt, voice calm. “That he wasthat stupidafter I’ve scolded him countless times for attempting to light his cigars when the tank was nearby? That the explosion was so bad they had to identify him by his dental records? And that by sheer good fortune and the grace of God, no one else was in the car with him at the time—not even the driver?”

Salvatore mutters a soft, “Holy shit,” and runs his hand through his hair. “How?”

Heart pounding, I stand. “I blackmailed my guard.”

When he doesn’t answer, I drop to my knees and unfasten his belt with shaking hands as he watches me, expression inscrutable. Yet when I pull down his zipper, he’s already hard. Thank God. I don’t know if he can forgive me for my deception—or still love me. But the proof that he still wants me physically has to be a good sign. Doesn’t it?

“Forgive me, Father,” I murmur, freeing his cock. “But I had to avenge them on my own. It was Mama’s last wish—that I’d grow up to be stronger than her.”

He draws in a sharp breath as I wrap my lips around him. “Bianca…”

Praying that he’ll forgive me, that everything will be okay, I grip the base of his cock, swallowing as much of him as I can, taking him deeper than I ever have before. Moving my head and hand along his hard length, I tease the underside of his shaft with my tongue, desperate to taste him one last time.

I cry out in a mixture of pain and surprise as his fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me off him. “We need to talk, princess.”

Ashamed, I stand, head bowed, afraid of what I’ll find if I meet his gaze.

But then he says two words that make my head snap up. “Panties off.”

“I thought…” I begin, but he’s already reaching beneath my dress and yanking my underwear down.

“Isaidwe need to talk, little girl. And you can’t do that with your mouth full of cock. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you be a cocktease.”

Understanding now what he wants, I hurry to obey. It’s awkward, but I manage to straddle him, lowering myself until I feel him at my entrance.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs as I sink down onto him. “I knew you’d be fucking wet for me. But I’m not the only reason—am I?”

Clutching his shoulders, I let out a shaky breath as he fills me. We’ve done this so many times now, but he’s so big that every time feels like the first time. I love it. I lovehim.

“Answer me,” he demands, thrusting upward. “You’re not just horny for your daddy’s cock—are you? Eliminating that old bastard turned you on. That video made this pussy wet.”

“How… how did you know?”

He hits the spot that drives me crazy, and I moan.

“Thisoffice isn’t soundproofed, angel.” He wraps his fingers around my throat in warning but doesn’t cut off my air—yet the threat hangs between us.

Releasing my neck, he grabs my hips, setting the pace. I bury my face against him, overwhelmed by the totality of this man who sees into the darkest corners of my soul and yet still accepts me.

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