“Understood, Boss.”
“Good,” he breathed and then sighed, lightening his tone. “By the way, congratulations on your marriage, Fratello. I hope she's giving you hell.”
I scoffed. “Grazie.”
I threw the phone onto my desk and closed my eyes. Shit. This wasn’t how I’d hoped to spend my first day married, but until I found dirt that proved D'Ardenzi wasn’t as innocent as he seemed, or something I could use to persuade Piero, marital bliss would have to wait. My family expected me to use Arianna against her father, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. She already resented me for forcing this marriage on her, and if I had any chance of proving I actually wanted this, I couldn’t use her.
I let the memories of last night come flooding back, and my dick hardened. The way her body writhed and begged for more. Her perfect ass reddening with every smack. Her moans and whimpers. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than when she comes. I can’t wait to see it happen when I’m buried deep inside her. Not going to lie, it will probably make my life.
I doubted she realised how much last night had shifted the dynamic between us. On some level, she trusted me. At least with her body and her pleasure. I’d told her I’d killed a man, and she still let me punish her. She wasn’t afraid of me. And that was the first step.
I dragged my hands down my face as I thought of our conversation this morning and how fucking bizarre it was. Cross-dressing? Pegging? Each to their own, but not happening. Nothing was coming near my asshole, especially an eight-inch dildo.
Waking my laptop, I twisted my lips as I considered the cross-dressing. I typed ‘men wearing women’s lingerie’ into the search engine and spent about thirty seconds browsing images of men barely fitting their junk into skimpy lace thongs. She liked this?Really.
“Fuck no,” I grumbled, shaking my head. Every cell in my body was fighting this. She had to be messing with me. My phone rang again, and I answered it without checking the caller ID, still staring in alarm at a huge, muscular man wearing a neon green corset and crotchless panties.Not a good look, amico.
“Pronto.”
“Boss, we have a problem.”
I slammed the laptop shut when I heard my high-ranking soldier's voice. He only ever called with bad news. My stomach dropped.
“What is it?”
“Three street arrests. All low-level dealers, but they’re ours.”
I groaned. This was the last thing I needed. I knew Piero’s bullshit crime campaign was coming down hard on our street operations, and our ground dealers being arrested wasn’t usually an issue, but with everything else, it was just another fucking problem to deal with. Luckily, things like this just needed a bit of money thrown at the right people to make it go away, but… that was a risk right now too.
“Call a meeting with all our ground dealers. Tell them they need to be more discreet. Only deals in private and with regular customers from now on.”
“Got it.”
After making a few more calls to my most trusted men, I arranged a confidential meeting to plan a break-in at the D'Ardenzi warehouses at the port for tomorrow night. I’d had enough of sitting back and waiting for Nero to find anything useful. I needed to act. I'd have to prove to Alessio that the fucker was hiding something, and I wouldn’t let it go until I did.
“You have a work voice.”
I glanced up to find Aria standing in the doorway, wearing an oversized sweater and baggy lounge joggers that completely hid her figure. Her blonde hair had been washed and was still damp, piled on top of her head, but her face was fresh, make-up-free, and glowing. She looked adorable.
I leaned back in my chair and let my gaze drift over her, loving the little blush creeping up her neck as she noticed.
“A work voice?”
“Yeah. Deeper, more aggressive, and you talk really fast in Italian. I struggled to keep up. I’m guessing that comes with the whole big, bad mobster image.”
“Were you eavesdropping?”
“Hard not to hear you when you sound like a foghorn,” she said, strolling further into the room and to the front of my desk, touching and moving every item on it. I chewed at my bottom lip, fighting the urge to put them all back how they were. I liked things neat. In a particular order. Probably another one of those sociopathic traits of mine she likes to look for.
“What are you doing?” she said in a singsong voice I'd never heard her use before.
“Working,” I responded. Subtly moving the steel letter opener that doubled up as a blade back to a ninety-degree angle. “Being a big, bad mobster.”
“You’ve been in here for hours,” she whined. I glanced at the desk clock she'd twisted and realised she was right. Her eyes flicked up to mine. “Your apartment is boring.”
“What would make it less boring?” I widened my legs suggestively and relaxed back in my chair. Her gaze dropped to my groin.
“Scrabble.”
