Page 14 of The Almost One

“His name is Bruce.” Marco speaks from behind me. I can hear the smile in his voice, but I don’t look up, too busy with this little cutie. He jumps up at me, his tiny paws on my bare leg as he wags his tail, and now I’m a little sad that I’m wearing a dress today because I can’t move around on the floor too much without giving an ass show.

Reluctantly standing, I’m met with Marco at my back as he slides a hand around my waist to my stomach, resting it there as he whispers into my neck.

“Don’t pout, Tesoro. I’ll give you something to stroke when I get you alone.” With a nip at my earlobe, he encourages me to move forward, out onto the porch where his parents are waiting for us.

I want to roll my eyes again, but it’d be useless because he can’t see me… and what good is rolling my eyes at him if I’m not going to get punished for it later?

* * *

The traditional Italian Easter is not too dissimilar to something my own family would do. We spent Friday evening by candlelight after a moment’s silence at five pm, which is apparently the time of the Pope’s Holy Friday mass. Lina had shown up with thirty minutes to spare, Enzo trailing behind her, and between us, we all got through far too many bottles of wine. It may not be my favorite drink, but when around Italians, you drink wine.

Yesterday was a fun day. Marco and I spent most of it by the lake with Lina and Enzo, drinking more wine and eating too much food. His parents had watched with loving eyes from the back porch, reminding me of how my parents used to watch Ev and I when we would run around for hours on end, climbing trees and causing our own kind of mischief.

For what is technically considered a crime family, mafia and all that, they’re surprisingly down to Earth. I don’t know what I was expecting before we came here, to be honest, but I’m having a really good time with them. It’s so peaceful here, with the huge lake in their backyard and the trees surrounding the house and grounds, it’s secluded from the rest of the world, and while I’m here, I don’t miss The City at all.

I may also have a new-found appreciation for boats after receiving more orgasms than I can count in the Mancinis’ ‘small’ speed boat as we bobbed along the water.

Today, I’m in the kitchen with Lina and Gabriella, Marco’s mom, dying eggs in beet water, getting them ready to go with our lamb dinner this afternoon. Bruce is like a little shadow, getting under our feet as we move around, but he’s too cute to get frustrated with.

“Bruce,sdraiato.” Gabriella waves her wooden spoon around, and she’s said this enough times over the weekend for me to know she’s just told the dog to go and lie down.

I chuckle as he dutifully turns away from her legs and heads toward the corner of the kitchen. I’m sure he has a dog bed in every room of this place.

“Okay, I think we’re all done, ladies.”

“Finally! Can we eat now, Mamma? I’m starving.” Lina is hungover as fuck and even several cups of coffee this morning hasn’t helped. She’s clearly still feeling rough.

Gabriella asked us both to help her prepare what we could before breakfast, another family tradition she insisted I join in with.

“Si.”She smiles at her daughter affectionately, with a small shake of her head. “Get thepastierafrom the pantry and we’ll go join the men at the breakfast table.”

Lina dutifully does as she’s been asked as I wash my hands. “Do you need me to take anything through, Gabriella?”

“No, that’s the last of it. You are a good girl, aren’t you.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and she side-hugs me as she begins walking out of the kitchen, mumbling under her breath. “Just like her…”

It immediately reminds me of her comment at the Christmas party and, call me curious, but I need to know what she’s talking about.

“Wait, Gabriella…”

She pauses in the doorway and looks over her shoulder.“Si?”

“What do you mean by,just like her?”

I may as well have just shot Bruce with the way she balks. Her eyes widen, and she can’t seem to find the words she needs. She’s close to tears, and I go to move toward her for a hug—I didn’t mean to upset her—but before I can move, she surprises me with a trick I know all too well: masking.

Her features soften, her eyebrows drop, and she simply says, “Oh, it’s nothing.” Then she turns and leaves the kitchen, leaving me dumbfounded as to why this sweet older lady would straight-up lie to me like that.

Although… mafia wife. I should expect nothing less than the unexpected in this world.

It’s frustrating as Hell, because I really want to know, and now my thoughts are spiraling…

Maybe it has something to do with what Marco is keeping from me? I fucking hope so anyway. All these pieces of random information are being dropped at my feet and I’m trying desperately to put them all together, but then I have to question if it’s even worth it.

Things are going okay right now…

Ah, for fuck’s sake. I’m not and never have been a head-in-the-sand girl. I need to know all the things.

As soon as we are in the car on the way home tomorrow, I’m speaking to Marco. He can’t distract me with orgasms or anything while he’s driving. He’ll have no choice but to talk.

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