Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

Emilia

Is this what it will be like?

He’ll have his women, while I’ll be stuck looking in from the outside. Or rather the inside of this room. I’ll be stuck watching my husband with some woman running her hands all over him.

I continue watching Massimo walking down the beach. I watch him until he disappears from my view. I blink against tears.

It’s not jealousy… Okay… maybe it is. But not in the conventional sense of being jealous. What’s grating me is being forced to feel this way because I’m in this situation.

I wouldn’t feel this way if there were any part of this whole fiasco that was normal because I wouldn’t choose to be with a man who cheats on me.

The way she touched him, although brief, spoke in abundance of them being together. She looked like his type. Like the kind of woman who knows what to do in the bedroom, or wherever. Not a virgin.

Although they were far away, I noticed the way he was around her too. She is blond and pretty, has an enviable body. Definitely his type. Probably the kind of woman too he wouldn’t treat the way he treated me.

So, maybe this is it. We’ll get married, and he’ll have her and maybe others like her. I shouldn’t feel anything close to jealousy, but I guess it was wrong for me to hope that whenever the day came for me to get married, I’d marry someone who loved me.

I can’t believe the way he treated me earlier. He spanked me and ripped off my clothes, then he said he didn’t want my love. How stupid of me to say such a thing, though, when he had whatever meetup he had with a woman who looked like a Barbie doll.

I move from the window and wipe away a tear with the heel of my hand. I almost trip over the fucking sheet I’ve had to wrap myself in.

I walk to the bed and sit on the edge, looking around the room. It’s going to be another day of nothingness. Another day of shit.

The only difference between yesterday and today is that I have more shit on my mind.

The woman on the beach with Massimo pissed me off, but what I’ve been thinking about since he left was what he said about Dad.

Massimo spoke like he knew my father very well. He spoke with confidence in his words.

I want to know what Dad did to him. To them. The D’Agostinos. In his office were both Massimo and his father. His father would not have been there if he didn’t have some vendetta against my father too.

So, what was it?

What happened?

When did it happen?

Massimo called my father a liar and a thief. What did he lie about? What did he steal?

And is Dad broke if he owes so much money? He must be. I know this whole thing with me would never have happened if he weren’t broke. His behavior back home was that of a desperate man. That’s what I remember. The way he gripped my hand screamed desperation.

He’s done his best to keep me out of business, so I don’t really know much of anything. I know what I’m supposed to know because it’s most often what I’m told in terms of safety and what Jacob told me, but that’s all.

To my knowledge, Dad’s supposed to be a multi billionaire. I must have been wrong and truly living in the dark because there was also what Massimo said about my life.

He said that my life wouldn’t have turned out the way I wanted. That Dad would have sold me to someone else. I don’t believe that. I’m stuck on that part because my father has always been so protective over me. He loved me. You would only protect someone the way he protected me if you loved them.Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

He even got worked up over guys I might have been interested in dating. Behold, that’s why I’ve never been kissed. And shit, my life was probably comparable to living in a convent. Minus the nuns. I had Jacob, but there was always a constant supply of people watching and making sure I was safe.

Massimo must have been lying. There’s no way I’m going to believe a monster over what I know my father to be. He was just telling me bullshit to piss me off.

But if it was all bullshit, then why do I feel deep down that there’s some element of truth to it? The keyhole rattles. I tense up. My poor body has now been conditioned to become anxious when I hear that sound.

The door opens. I relax a little when Priscilla comes in with a tray of food. Before she can say good morning, my stomach rumbles loudly. She smiles.

I’m not surprised to hear my stomach griping. I haven’t eaten anything since that pizza and the double chocolate shake I had with Jacob. That was two days ago. I’ve had sips of water. That’s all. I’m so hungry now I could eat a cow.

Priscilla smiles wider when I offer her a kind one.

“Good morning, signora,” she says.

“Good morning.”

She looks me over wrapped in the sheet. I wonder what she must think. If I were her, I’d probably assume correctly that I’m naked under it, but then my mind would race over why I might not have clothes on. Maybe she thinks I spent the night with Massimo.

“Yesterday, I was easy on you. I don’t plan to be anything of the sort today,” she states, and her accent becomes more pronounced. “You need to eat something.”

“Okay… I will.”

Pricilla sets the tray of food down on the little table by the dresser. I see she’s prepared some treats. There are sandwiches, just like yesterday, but also cookies and little macaroons.

“I hope you do. It’s never wise to stop eating. It makes things worse,” she points out. “I thought you might like something sugary. My specialty here is pastries. Do you like pastries? I don’t know anyone who doesn’t.”

I can see she’s trying to be friendly and make me feel comfortable. I decide I won’t be the bitch I was yesterday. Truthfully, I need someone to talk to, and the worst thing I could do in my situation is make enemies with the house staff.

“I like pastries,” I reply. “Those look great. Thanks for making them for me.”

She looks pleased and relieved at my answer. “You’re welcome. I think you’ll like the macaroons. They’re actually an old recipe from Mrs. D’Agostino, Massimo’s mother. She loved adding cinnamon.”

His mother… What must she be like?

“When do I get to meet her?” I ask. Better to ask questions like that to someone like Priscilla, because talking to Massimo is like talking to a wall.

The crestfallen look on Priscilla’s face, however, suggests I’ve asked a question I shouldn’t have.

“I’m sorry, dear. You won’t. She died many years ago. But we keep her spirit alive in our memories and all the things she loved.”

I press my lips together as a pang of guilt sweeps through me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I don’t know much about the D’Agostino family,” I confess.

“That’s okay. I’ve… worked for the family for a long time. I knew Massimo and his brothers when they were little.”

“He has brothers?”

“Three. I’m certain you’ll meet them very soon.”

She speaks fondly of them. Very fondly. If she’s been with the family for such a long time, she must know the ins and outs of what they get up to. As I look at her, I try to think of what Massimo told her in relation to me.

“Do you know why I’m here?” I ask in a small voice.

She nods uneasily. “Yes. I do know. News has travelled that you will be marrying Massimo in a few weeks, but I was informed on the day of your arrival.”

My breath catches when I think of that type of news going out to everyone. Family. And Jacob.

He never got to tell me how he felt about me. I know that was what he wanted to talk about that night, and now he’s heard I’m getting married. What must he think?

She walks up to me and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Eat. Just eat and take it from there. I’ll be back in a little while with some shampoos and accessories you can use in your hair. It will help you to… get used to the place.”

I nod my thanks. I don’t ask anything else because I know there’s no point.

No point in asking if I can go outside. No point in asking when my things will get here. No point in asking if I can call Jacob.

When she leaves, I walk to the food, and the minute I take one bite of a chicken salad sandwich, my taste buds open and I find myself scarfing down the food. One sandwich after the other disappears down my throat, and the pastries too.

The tray probably held food enough for three people, but I eat it all. When I’m done, there’s nothing but crumbs left on the plates. I’m so full I have to lie down.

Priscilla returns a little later with a basket of nail polishes, shampoos, and all sorts of things I would normally indulge in on the regular from Bath and Body Works.

I spend the day distracting myself with the contents of the basket. I wash my hair and spend hours in the bathtub, soaking my wounds from Massimo’s ruthless hand.

When night falls, I lie in the bed for the first time and find myself thinking about him as my head hits the pillows. I wonder where he is. It must be well into the night now because the days are longer during the summer months. In LA, we can have daylight right up until eight o’clock.

Is he with that woman?

Is this how I’ll spend my nights? Alone and wondering whoae bed he’s sleeping in?

Maybe he’s here and in his bedroom. I don’t know. I don’t even know where his room is.

Is she in there with him?

Will she be at the wedding? I saw the way she looked at me. I was too far away to see her face properly, but I saw enough to note the scowl and vindictive expression that wrinkled her pretty face. She saw me watching before he did, which was when she started to touch him, like she was marking her territory.

Bitch… she wouldn’t know that I couldn’t care less.

The hours pass. I can’t will myself to sleep. I keep thinking he’s with her. Or someone else. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s gorgeous. The kind of man to melt you with his arresting good looks and a face that Hollywood would pay millions for.

I don’t know what woman could resist him, or who wouldn’t react to him the way I do. Every girl I know would die if a man like that even spoke to them. And they’d be completely envious of me.

My mind tracks back to my first night here, how he touched me. My skin heats at the memory, and my pussy clenches with need.

I’m an idiot for thinking of this shit. I’m an idiot for not being strong enough to resist. Gorgeous as he is, the man is a monster. I shouldn’t feel anything for him.

What I should be thinking of is how I’m going to leave this place.

The door opens. I jump, startled. I was so lost in my thoughts that I never heard the key rattle.

I have the light turned down to an amber glow. It bathes over him as he walks into the room and locks the door behind him.

His eyes meet mine, and I straighten up on the bed.

He’s shirtless again, just like this morning. Except he has a black towel slinked over his shoulder and his hair looks damp. Damp like he just took a shower, or like he was working out.

My gaze drifts down to his boxers and those long athletic legs, each muscular and, like his abs, covered with tattoos. I realize that the only parts of his body that I have seen that haven’t been inked are his face and neck. He doesn’t have any on his forearms either. It’s enough to carry the illusion that he has none when he’s wearing a dress shirt. Was that done on purpose?

My previous worries over him being with that woman are replaced by the icy fear that’s crawled right back inside me.

What does he want now? Is he ready to have his way with me? Jesus, I’m going crazy here not knowing what will happen next. I’m on edge from one minute to the next.

“What do you want?” I ask.

He tilts his head to the side and regards me with those piercing eyes. “Is it wrong for a man to want to spend the night with his bride-to-be?”

My breath hitches, and warmth flushes over my body. Tonight. It could be tonight. It could be now that he comes to claim me.

I’m not ready.

He sets the towel on the chair by the bed before he comes closer. The scent of musk and soap tickles my nose, confirming he just showered.

“Nice to see you in the bed,” he states, pressing one knee on the mattress, which sinks in from his weight.

“What do you want?” I ask again.

“Relax, I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” he answers. I feel silly that I must visibly look relieved at his words. “I’m sleeping in here tonight. We don’t see enough of each other.”

“I thought you might be occupied with someone else.” I want to ask about that woman and who she is to him, but I think better of it.

The corner of his mouth lifts, and a smile slides across his lips. “Don’t spy on me, Emelia. You might not always like what you see.”

My blood heats. “I wasn’t spying. I simply stared through the window, and there you were. With her.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Does she come here often?”

He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. “Be careful, Princesca. I may start thinking you’re jealous.”

“I have nothing to be jealous of,” I snap, answering too quickly. “You can be with whoever you want.”

“Really? And… you’d be okay with that?” He narrows his gaze and climbs fully onto the bed, studying me.

“I don’t care what you do. This is business, and I fall part of the assets, right?”

We stare at each other for a few seconds. Then he tugs at the sheet. I lash out to smack his hands away when he tries to pull it down from my breasts, but he catches my wrists.

“Don’t touch me.” I wince.

He, however, tightens his grip on my wrist and lowers his head to press his lips to my ear.

“I can touch you whenever I want, Princesca. You belong to me. You just said it yourself. You fall part of the assets. You remember signing your name, right?”

Enraged, I try to pull my hand from his, but he just holds on tighter. “I was forced. That’s not the same thing as me giving myself to you.”

“Interesting choice of words.” He holds up my hand and plants a kiss on my knuckles.

“They are just words.”

“Maybe so, but I think… you’re curious.” I flinch and raise my brows.

“What am I curious about, Massimo?”

He runs his finger over the back of my palm. “To see what it would be like to give yourself to me. To see what it would be like if I hadn’t stolen you away from your father. Curious to see what it would be like to be with me, for you to give in to desire.”

“No…” I mutter, swallowing past the lump that’s formed in my throat as the desire he speaks of quickens my pulse.

“Take the sheet off,” he commands, his tone level.

“Why?”

“I want to see you.” His gaze drops to my breasts. My entire body blushes at the wild sexual flames that dance in his eyes.

“You saw me already.”

“I want to see you again.”

“What if I don’t want you to see me?” I challenge.

“That’s not up to you. You don’t follow instructions well, do you, Princesca?”

“Are you always such an ass?” I throw back.

“Yes.”

“You like humiliating me, don’t you?” I say in a small voice.

“Sweetheart, when a man asks you to strip, it’s not because he wants to humiliate you. It’s because he likes looking at your body.” His lips lift into a mutinous tilt, and he gives me a disarming grin. When his eyes cloud and darken with that wild sexual haze, it grips me, and the stir of arousal swirls deep in my core.

He comes closer and hovers over me with that smile and that look, snaring me further. “Emelia… when a man asks you to strip, it’s because he wants you, Princesca.”

The strangest thing happens to me on hearing those words. I forget. Just for a moment, I forget… everything. Shame and desire mingle hot in my throat, and the raw power of attraction holds me at its will.

I drop my guard. He sees the moment I do. This time when the devil tugs at the sheet, I allow him to.

He pulls it right off me, exposing my nakedness to him once more. My nipples pucker at the hungry look in his eyes, and my body heats when he runs his finger from the tip of my chin right down to the valley between my breasts.

The urge to tell him to go away fades away, blending into the air when he climbs closer.

“Lie back and spread your legs for me,” he commands. The mellow baritone of his voice laces with sexual heat. Husky with desire.

My breath quickens. I swallow hard. The question enters my mind again through the haze. What is he going to do to me? The build of pressure rising inside my body terrifies me because I’m not sure I would put up a fight if he decided to take me.

“What are you going to do to me?” I whisper.

“Play with you,” he says.

“Play?”

“Play. Tonight, we play. So, lie back and feel me.”

My heart races. He’s watching me in that predatory way again. Eyes focusing on my every move, my every action. Smiling when I obey and lie back on the stack of pillows with my legs spread so he can play with me.

He gets on top of me fully, locking me into the cage of that wild sexual energy. His breath tickles and tantalizes my nose as he lingers there before me, looming over me, looking at me.

“Stop fighting it,” he says, as if he can read my mind. His fingers flutter over my pussy lips. I flinch. I move away, but he pulls me back. “I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t want me to do.”

I tremble under the weight of his stare that bores its way through me. I don’t want him to be able to see straight through me. He can though. That smile on his face says he can.

Brushing his nose along mine is the start. Then he presses his lips to my cheek and kisses my skin. He avoids my lips, but it’s like I can feel him there too. His lips trail down to my neck, slowly, so slowly. Desire warms my insides.

One kiss follows another, and another, until my body comes alive with the scatter of heat. Kissing my neck, he travels down to the huge swells of my breasts and kisses my nipples, licking at the tips then teasing with his tongue.

I grab the sheet when he sucks my left nipple. My pussy clenches from the jolt of pleasure. He stops sucking, and that devilish smile from the other night returns to his face, scaring me.

“Have you ever allowed a man to suck your breasts before, Princess?” the devil asks, holding my gaze.

“No…”

“Do you like it?” he whispers in my ear. Embarrassment fills me.

I look away, but he catches my face and guides my gaze back to his.

“Answer me… don’t be afraid. Tell me if you like it.” His grip tightens on my jaw.

“Yes…” I hear myself say. I can’t believe I said that.

Satisfaction lightens his eyes from the dark molten heat. He lowers his head to suck again. Sucking hard while he reaches to my right to capture the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Conflict rides through my soul when I start feeling good. His mouth sucking my breast feels amazing. His fingers caressing me feels like nothing I can quite describe.

I can’t control the mindless moan that escapes my lips, no more than I can control the arch of my back as he starts sucking harder. He moves from one breast to the other, sucking and swirling his tongue around my nipple.

The pleasure that rushes through my veins becomes too much. I groan out a loud moan when a greedy orgasm takes me over the edge.

I fall, and he takes full advantage of my weakened, aroused state to move down to my pussy and start lapping up my release.

He spreads my legs wider, buries his face right there between my thighs, and drinks.

He drinks as he runs his hands over my ass, which still stings, and holds me to him so he can suck the sensitive, swollen nub of my clit. My body takes over. Somehow, my hands move to his head, encouraging him to continue. He does. But not before looking up at me and smiling at my defeat.

I couldn’t resist him. I still can’t. He has me right where he wants me, wanting him to continue his feast on me.

When I start moaning again, he reaches up and grabs my breasts, massaging the mounds while he eats me out, taking me to the height of pleasure again.

Raw ecstasy shoots through me, sizzling every part of my body, and I come again. I come hard, harder than before, so hard I can’t catch my breath.

He drinks again, taking it all until there’s nothing left, and I’m drained.

Drained and panting, I can barely focus when he rises and licks his lips, taking the last traces of my arousal into his mouth.

My hands falls to the bed, limp, but he catches it and positions himself on his knees so I can see the massive bulge of his cock pressing against his boxers. Shock spreads through me when he brings my hand to the bulge and clamps my fingers over his hard length. He makes me rub up and down his cock and holds my hand to him so I don’t let go.

“That is what you do to me, Princesca,” he confesses. I feel hot all over again. “Do you want to know a little secret?”

A secret?

There are so many floating around. Too many.

Knowing one would lessen the burden of not knowing anything.

“Yes.”

A smile dances across his lips. “I’m curious about you too. I’ve been curious since that night I first saw you. You, Emelia Balesteri, my enemy’s daughter.”

As I stare back at him and take in his words, I know he’s not talking about Saturday. What he’s referring to sounds older. Like it was a long time ago.

If I’d seen this guy before, I’d remember. When is he talking about?

“What night?” I ask.

“The ball.”

“The charity ball?” He was there.

“You can call it that. It’s best you call it that, Princesca. The truth would hurt you too much, and I don’t want to hurt you that way tonight,” he answers as he moves away from me.

My skin flushes when I realize I was still holding on to his cock. I push the embarrassment away and stare back at him.

What did he mean? I can call it that. I thought the charity ball was exactly that.

I was nervous but so happy to finally join Dad at one of his events. It was the first time he’d ever taken me to anything like that. That ball was a few months before I turned nineteen. I felt so grown up and like a representative of Dad and the company. He even introduced me to one of the investors. It was a good night for me.

“If it wasn’t a charity, what was it?” I ease up onto my elbows.

“No. No, Princesca,” he says, lying next to me. He reaches out and pulls me closer, setting the sheet back over me then him. “I like you like this. Innocent and untainted. Unknowing.”

Thoughts from earlier return as we stare at each other. Once again, I know he’s referring to Dad in some way. He keeps saying things to make me question what I know. Making me question Dad.

Making me question him, and myself, and what we just did.

It’s all going to drive me crazy.

If I stay here, that’s exactly what will happen to me.

I’ll lose my mind. And I’ll lose myself too.