Her Ruthless Owner, page 5
You, I almost blurt out.
But because that's just too disgustingly pathetic—-
"Where are you going to sleep?"
A moment passes, and just as my anxiety threatens to erupt into full-blown panic—-
"My room is right across yours, tesoro."
"Good to know," I mutter just before faking a yawn and flipping to my side.
"Anything else?"
I fake another yawn. "Nope, nothing. G'night."
His lips touch my forehead just as I close my eyes, and I'm once again fighting back tears as I hear my bedroom door close behind him.
I'm no longer alone.
After everything I've lost, and everything I've gone through—-this is more than enough. I'll work hard to be the best wife to Cesare Marchetti, and I swear to myself that I won't ever be so greedy as to wish for him to love me...the way I've already begun to fall in love with him.
Cesare
He stood outside the room, silent and motionless, and over half an hour had gone by before he finally heard her breathing settle down.
Penelope was finally asleep, and it was only at this moment Cesare finally allowed himself to turn away.
Tension still gripped his body even as he walked back into his old bedroom. It was indeed right across hers, just as he had said. But what was a complete lie was the way he had made her believe he meant to sleep here all along.
What the fuck was happening to him?
He had never been this soft with another woman outside his family. All of them had been expendable, and he couldn't even recall sparing a few seconds to consider their feelings. The moment he tired of a woman, he would not waste time getting rid of her. The moment a former lover would displease him, he would just as swiftly replace her with someone else.
But Penelope was different, and it was not just because his duty to famiglia required him to marry her.
Maybe it was guilt, Cesare thought broodingly.
She had suffered a lot, and more than she fucking deserved, and all because of his negligence.
He owed her, and that was why he was soft.
Just that.
Memories of Penelope started playing back in his mind, and Cesare bit back a groan when he suddenly found himself reliving the alluring feel of her body against his.
FUCK.
He ended up jerking himself off in the shower, which was something he had not done since he first discovered sex at the tender age of ten.
Cesare headed down to the library afterwards to pour himself a drink, but he soon found himself disconcerted to find the place already occupied, and with his grandmother nursing what looked like a glass of wine in her hand.
The older woman motioned for him to join her, and he obligingly walked forward.
Her grandson's hair was still lightly wet from the shower, and Potenziana smiled in satisfaction upon seeing this.
Cesare was not unaware of the way his grandmother was watching his every move as he poured himself a shot of whisky. "You have something to say, Nonna?"
"I'm only curious...you are spending the night here, I take it?"
"You already know the answer to that," Cesare said dryly.
Potenziana's expression turned crafty. "But you also know what I'm really asking is...why."
His broad shoulders moved in a dismissive shrug. "She seemed to take comfort in knowing that I'll be nearby."
"She's started to trust you then?"
"I believe so."
"And you? Have you started to trust her?"
"We've come to an agreement."
The words didn't disturb her as much as the smoothness of his tone did, and her gaze narrowed. "What kind of agreement?"
"Something that will remain between the two of us."
Potenziana thought of how one's past shaped one's decisions in the present, and her mood turned somber. "She's a good girl, Cesare. It's no surprise if at this early a stage you've come to care—-"
"I do not care for her." Cesare's words came out sharper than he intended, but the way his grandmother visibly took no offense to this only made him feel worse. Disrespect to one's elders was almost akin to blasphemy in famiglia, and a grimace of apology twisted over his lips as he looked at the woman who had been more like a parent to him than both his own father and mother.
"Perdonami, Nonna."
Potenziana only waved a hand. "There is no need to ask for forgiveness, bambino. I know I am being meddlesome—-"
"You have every right to be meddlesome, Nonna. But I also ask, if only for Penelope's sake—-" His voice turned gentle but firm. "Refrain from filling her head with nonsense, per favore. I am not and will never be the type to fall in love, and to say anything to her that would make my fidanzata believe otherwise would only lead me to breaking her heart."
Chapter Seven
Penelope
I'M NOT SURE IF IT'S exhaustion or something else, but I was out like a log last night, and so the first thing I do when I wake up the next morning is to just look around and take things in.
Wow.
The bedroom they've given me is huge. It's about the same size as my entire classroom back in high school, and that's not counting the en-suite. The walls are the same darkly-stained wood used in the living room (or parlor, as everyone here in Boston seems to call it), and while I've never had a good eye for art, what little I know about mafia (or famiglia, as everyone here also insists on using) tells me that the painting across my bed likely costs a fortune.
A walk-in closet precedes the shower, with lining each side are open shelves that are chock-full of brand-new clothes that still have their price tags attached. Just looking at them makes me want to pinch myself. Wasn't it less than twenty-four hours ago that the only thing I owned were the clothes on my back and nothing else?
My body instinctively stiffens when I step into the shower, but instead of the usual trauma turning me into a sobbing mess, what I find myself recalling are memories of a certain mafia boss—-
Oh.
And so I end up crying again, but what my eyes are shedding are happy tears. Life has been so shitty over the past year...that I know it makes me seem foolish to believe so easily that I've been miraculously cleared of my trauma.
But I don't care.
Maybe it's because the shitty part of my life has finally come to an end, and it's God Himself deciding to instantly heal the wounds of my past. I know it seems equally stupid to believe that it's also God who wants me to belong to a man like Cesare Marchetti, but...
That's what my heart tells me, dammit.
Men like my foster dad can never hurt me again, now that I'm the property of Boston's most powerful and dangerous mafia boss. I'll always be safe and free, and while I know someone like Cesare can hurt me even more—-
I know it's never going to happen because I trust him.
I trust him with every beat of my heart, I trust him with every fiber of my being. And when I think about Cesare, it's not fear that grips my body but—-
Curiosity, I hastily tell myself.
It's the safest way to classify the emotions coursing through my blood, and so for the next half hour that's the only thing I allow my mind to focus on.
I'm curious about how things between Cesare and me will further progress.
I'm curious about what today will bring.
I'm just curious, that's all.
But excited?
"Nope." I say the word out loud, in case it makes a difference. "I'm absolutely not excited—-"
"About what?"
Holy...freaking...shit!
Powerful strong arms slip around me from behind, and I can only gasp as my back falls against his chest, and I realize he's just as naked as I am.
Gaaah.
Self-denial is moot at this point, with how every inch of me has started to tingle in the most lewdly vivid way possible. I'm absolutely, shamelessly, and arousingly excited...and so is he, if the way his cock is throbbing so violently against my ass is anything to go by.
My heart skips a beat when Cesare's mouth nuzzles my ear, and another gasp spills past my lips as his hands slowly sweep up until they're able to start kneading my breasts like they're dough to be sensually molded for his consumption.
"Have you soaped yourself yet, tesoro?" Cesare whispers.
The truthful answer to that would be 'yes', but instead I hear myself croak out, "Not yet?"
"Good."
My knees threaten to crumble at the purring tone of his voice, and when he spins me around, and I have my first eyeful of his masculinely nude form—-
Oh...boy.
My throat dries up as I slowly run my gaze over every chiseled edge of his figure. His whole body looks like it's steel encased in bronzed flesh, and he just looks so much bigger when he's nude like this. I've heard people say that size doesn't matter, but...how long did Cesare say his dick was again?
Because I think I'm going to beg to differ.
I think size does matter, and when I try eyeballing its length—-
One, two, three...oh, shit.
I stop counting as soon as I get past eight inches. My height and frame are average at best, and I have a hard time wrapping my head around the possibility that my body can accommodate anything longer than a banana. Or a Venti cold cup. Or—-
You're getting hysterical, dude!
I silently take in big gulps of air in an effort to calm myself. I'm definitely excited still, and turned on for certain, but the way I can see Cesare's boner actually still swelling in size is also making me feel just a wee bit...apprehensive.
"You're looking a little nervous."
Grrr.
It's that tone of his again. The one that's uniquely able to taunt and seduce me at the same time, and as much as it makes me want to throw a punch at his perfectly gorgeous face—-
The moment I see the sculpted muscles of his arms flex and bulge as he pumps out body wash into the palm of his hand, it's all over for me, too.
Shiiiiit.
A smirk curves over his lips as his gaze drifts down my trembling body, and I realize as soon as I look down that what he's staring at are the pouting pink tips of my breasts.
"May I begin, tesoro?"
His hands have already claimed my breasts before he's even finished speaking, and my body starts writhing helplessly when he plays with them like they're his favorite toys to squeeze.
Aaaaaah.
I become a mindless slave to passion as he starts soaping every inch of my body, and the way his hands caress my flesh oh so slowly and thoroughly is an exquisite torment in itself.
His touch is as unbearable as it's addictive, and the water that's still cascading down my body has nothing to do with how my nether lips are getting wetter and wetter by the second.
My knees buckle for real when he finally inserts his hand between my trembling thighs, and Cesare's chuckle plays into my ear as I end up clutching the broad slope of his shoulders for balance.
My nipples scrape against his chest just as his fingers find my clit, and it's the beginning of the end.
"Cesare..."
I whimper his name without thinking as my hips start moving on its own, and I find myself riding his hand harder and faster like it's a five-fingered beast meant to sweep me off to paradise.
Every stroke of his finger on my clit makes me feel more delirious; I want and need more. I want both of us out of our minds with lust, and before I even know what I'm doing, I'm also reaching down between our bodies—-
"Fuck."
Cesare groans the word out the moment my fingers wrap around the huge girth of his boner. He's so, so much thicker than I imagined, and my pussy quivers even harder when I hear him groan anew as I start stroking his length.
The movement of my fingers soon matches his, and sex flavors the air as I feel my own clit start to tighten, and his own cock twitches even more violently in my fold.
I start to pant, and so does he, and the sound is just so maddeningly erotic—-
Aaaaah.
I wish I could make it last longer, but it's impossible. Pleasure bursts out of me the moment he pinches my clit, and Cesare growls my name out as my fingers squeeze his cock hard.
We cum at the same time, my creamy release coating his fingers as they slide down against my folds, and his own cum dripping all over my hand as his cock pulsates endlessly in my grip.
A faint cry tumbles past my lips as he suddenly pushes me up against the wall, and the next thing I know his other free hand is grabbing a fistful of my hair. He angles my face up, and my toes curl hard against the cold, wet tiles as his mouth hungrily ravages mine in a kiss so, so deep it ends up branding me all the way to my soul.
I own you, this kiss of his says.
And as I suck eagerly on his own tongue, and I hear him groan just as his big, strong body jerks against mine, this kiss just as clearly says—-I own him, too.
Chapter Eight
Penelope
CESARE CAN'T SEEM TO keep his hands to himself as he towels me dry after our shower. His fingers casually tease my nipples as he hooks my bra close at the back, and he accidentally makes my pussy quiver as he checks the seamless fit of my panties.
He asks me to choose something sleeveless for some reason, so I opt for a little black dress that makes me feel rather elegant. I want to ask him if I'm overdressed, but as soon as I come down, Cesare informs me that La Strega is waiting for us at her private study.
"Sit down, please."
While the older woman no longer terrifies me the way she had yesterday, I still find her vastly intimidating, and I end up answering her like a newly recruited soldier being interrogated by his commander.
"I hope you slept well, bambina?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you seem to be getting along with my grandson, sì?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Do you have any complaints? Any worries?"
"No, ma'am."
"You weren't this nervous with me the first time."
That's because yesterday, I was mostly in shock, but now that the truth of her identity has truly sunk in, and I find myself recalling of all the other gory stories I've heard of how La Strega has tortured those stupid enough to piss her off—-
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
The older woman glances at Cesare, asking, "Is she also like this with you?"
"Not at all," her grandson drawls. "But maybe that's also because most of the time we're busy turning each other on—-"
"Cesare!"
His grandmother and I end up saying his name at the same time, with La Strega sounding outraged while mine comes out in a dismayed squeak.
Cesare only smirks. "You can't say it didn't work."
La Strega and I look at each other...and we end up grimacing at the same time.
Grrr.
Both of us find it rather galling to realize that Cesare's absolutely right, and although our conversation takes a serious turn after that, it's indeed true that I no longer feel nervous or intimidated in La Strega's presence.
"The whole of New England has not been involved in the drug trade ever since I took the reins of our famiglia. It was about a year ago, however, that we started to hear rumors about someone from the Sorrentos wanting to change this. That's when I knew I had to do everything to find you—-"
"Because you believe be able to put a stop to it," I say quietly, "through my marriage to Cesare."
"Oh no, bambina. I don't just believe this. I know it will be so, and I mean it to be so. Our famiglia is ready to go to war with whoever opposes us on this, but let us hope it will not come to that, sì? In the meantime..." La Strega reaches over the desk to gently squeeze my hand, saying, "I know you are looking forward to meeting your grandmother, but for now it is best to keep your existence a secret, just to keep anyone from...meddling. Va bene?"
THINGS HAVE STARTED to feel overwhelmingly surreal again by the time Cesare and I leave his grandmother's study, and it's only when I'm already in the passenger seat of Cesare's sports car, and he's driving past the ornate gates of the Marchetti Mansion that I finally manage to get out of my thoughts.
I glance at the rearview mirror, and my heart skips a beat when I realize there doesn't seem to be a convoy of cars full of bodyguards following us.
If it's truly just the two of us now, then...is it safe to assume we're about to have our first date?
Eep.
The thought makes me giddy as a schoolgirl, and my heart starts racing when I turn my gaze to my mafia boss.
Oh.
Is it just me...or does Cesare look so much cooler when he's driving, and especially with a pair of aviator glasses shielding his gaze?
"As much as I love having you stare at me—-"
Oops.
"I need you to concentrate and listen carefully to what I'm about to say."
It takes everything not to squirm in my seat while I wait for his next words. Is this it? Is he going to tell me we're about to go out on a date, and it's because he's changed his mind, and he's realized that what he really wants is a normal marriage—-
"You know that Boston is Marchetti territory, sì?"
I nod and say yes even as I try figuring out what this has to do with anything. Maybe...Cesare is just like his grandmother, and this is all a test? Maybe he wants to know if geography is a strong suit of mine, since it's something everyone expects from a mafia boss's wife?
"There is nothing that goes on in this city that our famiglia does not control. Everything you see is ours. Everyone you will meet here works for us. Boston is ours, in every way there is."
And I guess...he's now explaining to me what's about to be our conjugal assets?
"But in a couple of minutes, we'll be taking the interstate and heading to Providence."
He looks at me like he's expecting me to say something, and so I say...
"That's in Rhode Island, right?"
Cesare relaxes. "Essato."
"And, um—-"
I feel like I'm acting like a goody-two-shoes student eagerly aiming to be some teacher's pet, but...I just can't seem to help myself.
"Providence is about an hour's drive away, isn't it?"
