Page 37 of Sins of the Son

Cesare lowered his arm to his side as he curled his hand into a fist. The veins on the top of his large hand bulged menacingly.

After several tense moments, his hand opened as he flexed his fingers, forcing the tension from them. “Yes, one hour. There is a dressing room off the bathroom. Your clothes are in there.”

Without saying another word, he turned and left.

I jumped at the harsh sound of the front door slamming shut several seconds later.

I didn’t take a full breath until I heard his car leave the gravel drive outside.

It wasn’t until then that I realized the bedroom window had been opened and the bedside lights had been left on.

Since I didn’t even remember getting into bed last night, there was only one explanation… Cesare.

* * *

Leaving the espresso untouched, I padded barefoot into the bathroom and then through the door to the dressing room. I couldn’t suppress an ugly twinge of jealousy. Although it clearly was decorated for a man with dark wood, low lighting, a large, black leather bench down the middle and only one floor-to-ceiling mirror in the corner, it was what I had always wanted. A dressing room just for my clothes.

I sort of had one in my old apartment, but it hardly counted when you had to convert your only bedroom and sleep on the sofa to get it.

I stepped inside and ran my fingertips along the soft wool and cashmere bespoke suit jackets that hung on elegant, polished wood hangers on racks that were inset into the wall and lined with emerald green wallpaper. Each inset even had its own recessed lighting. In the middle of the room a wide bureau was positioned along the wall, topped with various colognes, a boar’s head hairbrush, and a massive wood and glass display case with nine super expensive watches that were slowly turning in unison. One of those watches probably cost my entire year’s salary at the leather shop.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the spicy, masculine scent of his cologne and imagined what this room would look like if it were mine. It would smell like Chanel perfume and be decorated with ivory crown molding and robin’s-egg blue paint with bright, buttery yellow accents. And I would have an elegant chandelier that looked like wildflowers with green crystal leaves. It would cast tiny rainbows of light that would reflect off the gold-framed mirrors that would be in each corner. I sighed. Perhaps one day.

I spotted my wardrobe neatly pressed and arranged on the right side of the dressing room. It was strange to see my dresses and skirts next to Cesare’s suits, as if we were a married couple.

In a fit of pique, I slid my hands between our clothes and spread my arms wide, separating the hangers so they no longer touched.

I surveyed my options. I needed something that would look extremely professional, but also sexy and alluring. The trick was, it couldn’t look like I was trying to look sexy. My lips twisted in a smirk. I was going to show Cesare who truly had the upper hand in this twisted game he insisted we play. I refused to think, for even a moment, that I was trying to attract his attention. The idea was ludicrous. I hated him as much… no more… than ever. Yesterday was merely a moment of weakness brought on by exhaustion and too much drama and upheaval.

I took a deep breath. I would be better prepared today.

That I wanted to look my best meant nothing. I always wanted to look my best. It certainly didn’t mean I was softening toward Cesare Cavalieri.

I rifled through my wardrobe until I selected the Valentino dress I had "borrowed" from Amara. It had long sleeves and a pleated silk skirt with a deceptively demure neckline. The gathered fabric around the V-neck gave it a conservative look, but if I moved in just the right manner, someone paying careful attention would realize it was actually cut fairly low. It was also in Valentino’s signature red, which would match my lipstick perfectly.

I went in search of my lingerie. I found it in a second tall bureau with numerous thin drawers meant to hold ties, scarves, and other accessories. As I pulled out each drawer and finally found my black lace bra and panties, I paused as my fingertips traced their delicate, scalloped edge.

Had Cesare stumbled upon this same drawer this morning when he was getting ready?

Had he reached out and touched the black silk of my panties?

Had he fantasied about ripping them off me?

Warmth pooled low in my stomach as my inner thighs clenched. I inhaled a shaking breath. What the hell was that? What did I care if he touched my underwear?

With a huff, I snatched the panties and bra out of the drawer and got dressed. I only had less than an hour to do my hair and makeup before the driver arrived.

* * *

Alfonso rolled up in Barone’s Fiat 124 Spider Lusso. He lowered the passenger window and called out, “I’m impressed. I can’t say I would have pegged you for being the type of woman to be on time, Signorina Carbone.” He followed it with a good-natured wink and a smile.

I leaned down to the open window and rested my forearms on the doorframe. “Years of getting the paddle from my nonna for being late to Mass will do that to a girl. Any chance I could convince you to give me the keys to my old Fiat and you could just tell Cesare that you were too busy to drive me in?”

Alfonso frowned. “That old deathtrap? No, signorina. That car has earned its rest. I’ve done all I could with it. Maybe we should let it die.”

I pouted but wasn’t ready to give in just yet. I turned my face up to the morning sun, knowing its beams would accentuate the glimmer of gold highlighter I'd brushed on the tops of my cheeks to nice effect, and batted my eyelashes. “What if I agreed to drive the new Fiat Cesare got me?”

He rolled his eyes. “The one where you keyed Vaffanculo and a crude drawing of a penis on the hood? I haven’t fixed your… artistic expression of appreciation for his gift just yet.”

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