Number four, I have no job and no source of income.
Number five, Rocco Moretti is the most attractive man I’ve ever met.
Despite everything else, all the chaos of the last few days, it’s that final point that snags in my mind the most.
How could a man who didn’t even exist to me a few weeks ago become so instrumental in not only my livelihood, but my every waking thought?
From the moment we met, I’d felt that strange allure, been helpless to his flirtations. I’d even considered what it might have been like to give in to him before any of this had even happened.
But where did that leave us now?
Perhaps I was always a piece of a larger plan to him. Maybe he had been orchestrating getting me to leave Claudio from the start. Perhaps that was his way of drawing a line in the sand and pulling me over it to stand next to him.
Maybe that night atElectrixhad meant nothing to him. Maybe it was just a perk of the job to be seduced by someone so willing to give herself over. Maybe he had his fill when he sank his teeth into my neck and felt my desire between my legs.
My own fingers drift beneath the water at the memory.
The memory of his breath on my neck still sends shivers of pure, animalistic lust down my spine. I imagine his lips trailing over my skin as he reaches up to my ear, biting at my lobe. In my mind, his hand rubs across my chest, and my nipple pebbles under his touch.
“Angioletta.”
I touch myself as I imagine his voice whispering in my ear. The warm bathwater is an unnecessary lubricant for my already-soaked core.
His devastating eyes, the way his hair falls across his face. The way his strong, tattooed arms held me in place like they were capable of lifting me entirely off the floor. If he hadn’t stopped, would he have fucked me against that wall?
I imagine it now as I work myself harder, the way he would have teased me with his fingers, bringing me to the brink of orgasm but ultimately denying my pleasure.
How I would have waited, desperate and dripping, for him to pull out his cock, thick with his own desire. I would have begged for it, cried for it as he lined himself up to my core.
How I would have screamed when he thrust into me, oh so fucking hard. Again and again. And again. As my pleasure would have built and built and…
How his lips would have finally, finally met mine…
I tremble as my body finds its feeble release. My fingers are a poor imitation of my own imagination, but at least it does something to relieve the pressure that had been building within me since that night.
In the clarity that follows, I step out of my bath and drain away the water, sweeping my sinful thoughts down the drain as well.. A cold shower soothes my flushed skin, so that by the time I walk back into the bedroom in my towel, my heartbeat has returned to normal.
Donatella enters a moment later with an excessively large first aid kit, blissfully unaware of my transgressions, and levels me a serious look on me.
“Is there anything else, aside from the bruises?” she asks, assessing me head to toe.
I just shake my head as she hands over a tube of cream.
“Apply this as often as you nee.; It will speed up the healing process.”
“Thank you,” I say as I glance at the large first aid kit as she packs it up. “You know how to use all that?”
“I trained as a nurse before I stepped into housekeeping.”
Right. “I guess that’s normal for mafia housekeepers.”
“It comes in handy from time to time,” her clipped tone tells me I shouldn’t push it. “Mister Moretti isn’t prone to injury, however.”
“Just his enemies, right?” I reply bitterly.
Outside the soothing bathwater, the crushing reality of Rocco’s true identity is harder to ignore. He might have saved me from Claudio, but he’s still a mafia don.
How many people has he killed? How many lives has he ruined? Behind his flirtations lies someone deadly, lethal, and emotionless, capable of an unknown number of atrocities.
