Page 5 of Captured Fantasy

We paused beside my car and I put the cigarette to my lips as I dug in my pocket for my sunglasses. Amadeo paused before me, gazing somewhere off in the distance. I glanced down at his hand, at the way his thumb worked the wedding band on his finger. He always did that when he was thinking hard.

“Something on your mind, Mads?” I said.

“Anything and everything. We’ve got a fucking large shipment coming in tomorrow night and me and a couple of my men need to process it before midnight. There’s supposed to be a random sweep of the docks. Officer Randall called me last night to let me know.”

“You want help?”

“You were out late yesterday. Should probably take a night off now and again, get rested up.”

I shrugged, flicking the rest of the cigarette to the pavement and grinding it out. “Honestly, I don’t have much else to do but work right now.”

“And chase women,” Amadeo said, a hint of judgement in his tone. “Honestly, if you put the energy you spend getting laid into something else, you’d be a millionaire or something.”

“We don’t all end up wildly in love with the woman our boss forced us to marry,” I said. “Some of us have to work to to get laid and it’s good honest work too, so fuck off.”

Amadeo raised a middle finger. “Speaking of my wife, I need to get back. See you tonight, since you don’t have anything to do but work.”

He ducked into his car across the street and sped away, the engine of his car cutting the tranquility like a gunshot. I watched him go, my mind drifting back to Mrs. Russo. She was probably standing at the door, thanking everyone for attending, her panties still damp between her thighs.

Well, whatever she was doing, that was the last action Mrs. Russo was going to get from me. As much as I was dying to finish what I’d started, to spend some time between her most likely crisply ironed, lace edged sheets, she was off limits. Wealthy outfit men fucked around with outsiders, with prostitutes and mistresses, with the women they intended to marry. Anything else was in poor taste.

I took a seat in my car, swearing lightly at the contact of hot leather, and turned the engine on. It purred and quieted to a gentle hum beneath my feet. The sleek, black leather beneath my hands brought to mind Amadeo’s jab that I was working too much. He was right of course, I did work too much. I needed the structure, especially today.

Tonight I would throw myself into my work because if I didn’t, I’d be tormented by the memory of Lorenza fucking Russo and the look on her face as she gazed down at me. It was burned into my mind—the innocence in her gaze, the trembling of her mouth, the taste of her pussy on my fingers.

It was going to be another long, frustrating night.

CHAPTER TWO

LORENZA

The day after my husband’s funeral, I woke early to an intense silence. Gino and I had never shared a bed, so it wasn’t unusual for me to wake alone, but I was used to hearing him shuffle down the hallway. I sat up in bed, the window open to the faint scent of blooming lilacs outside the house. The air was already warming from the rising sun.

Today would be as scorching hot as yesterday.

Rising, I went to the bathroom that adjoined my bedroom and my late husband’s. My footsteps sounded loud and a strange feeling brewed in my chest as I stood there, soaking in the silence. I’d never loved my husband, and he hadn’t loved me, but we enjoyed each other’s company. He’d been my constant companion for the last ten years and I would miss him in a detached way.

I spent several minutes in the bathroom just standing by the mirror, staring at my reflection. My eyes were a little swollen from sleep, but otherwise I looked fine. My hands went automatically to my toothbrush and I cleaned my teeth with even strokes.

I washed my face and rubbed sunscreen and moisturizer over my skin in slow circles. On the other side of the wall, I caught the faint sound of my alarm going off in my room, but I ignored it. It could wait until I got back in the bedroom. My hand shook a little as I filled up a plastic cup, rinsed my mouth, and reached for my birth control out of habit. I didn’t really need to take it anymore, but I did anyway.

The sight of the pills sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest. My sex life with Gino hadn’t been good because he wasn’t willing to go down on me, but he had purchased me a vibrator so I could take care of myself after he’d left my room.

That didn’t mean that I hated him for the lack of pleasure. I’d known exactly what I was getting into when I spoke my vows, although I hadn’t had much choice in the matter. Our marriage was one of convenience and Gino was upfront about what he needed. He used me to get off when he felt like it and I was free to do whatever I needed, whether it was a sex toy or porn, to take care of my own needs.

It all came back to me in a rush as I sat there with the pills tight in my fingers. The man from the repast, the young man with the way of looking at me with his head cocked and his eyes burning. The first man to give me an orgasm. A thrill and a rush of shame went through me as I remembered the touch of his hands, strong and lean, between my thighs.

I snapped my eyes open. Yes, my husband’s funeral wasn’t the ideal place for my first sexual encounter outside of my marriage, but it had temporarily filled a desperate, unmet need. I wasn’t sorry I’d allowed it to happen. And surely that man had known who I was, so he was just as guilty of disrespecting the dead.

I wasn’t going to allow myself to feel ashamed of taking a harmless moment of pleasure for myself amid all of the confusion and pain. It hadn’t meant anything and I would likely never see that man again.

Tossing the box back in the drawer, I padded back into the bedroom and turned off my insistent alarm. Silence reigned again, heavy with the knowledge that from now on it was just me.

And the house, of course. Thank God Gino had willed me the house and enough money to live modestly for a while. A surge of affection for my late husband welled in me and for the first time, tears stung at the corners of my eyes. I shook my head quickly and left the room, stepping out into the hall.

The caterers and their staff had cleaned everything up after everyone went home yesterday. The house was set to rights, exactly as it was before Gino’s death. The dark wood stairs creaked beneath my feet as I descended into the main hallway and moved quietly into the kitchen. Gino had allowed me to renovate it two years ago, turning it into an airy, modern space with a touch of charm.

I hit the button on the espresso maker and went to the stove to open the window. A breath of air tugged at the ruffled, white curtains, teasing them around my face. I closed my eyes for a long moment as the smell of coffee filled the kitchen. This was it, this was my life from now on.

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