Page 109 of Revenge on the Mafia

Every time the breeze danced, the pom-poms did a jiggle that tugged at my cock. Not for the first time, I regretted the health hazard of the custom-made creation. Rightfully, she no longer fit in her previous one. At least not enough to walk around in public. But she could still handle it in private. Just the thought of the show she’d given me the night before made me trace my lips with my tongue where her taste still lingered like a little piece of heaven. Scrapbook images flashed in my memory. A warm night. Dim lights. A catwalk. At the end, my woman sprayed out on our dining table. Silly little pom-poms at the edge of my teeth. The taste of her desire coating the thickness of my tongue.

Liquid heat dropped to my groin and, as if she could feel it, she rolled onto her front, lifted her head and glanced my way. The sun was too bright. She couldn’t see me behind the glass. I’d know this because over the years, I had mastered the art of observing her unnoticed. She called it an obsession. I called it looking out for what was mine. My hand reached for my chest and caressed it. I’d made her tattoo her initials on my chest, in the center of her star. There could be no doubt anymore. I was the property of Anna Vales.

My pants vibrated. I picked up the phone without shifting my focus.

“I need you to check on Stefano,” Enzo growled down the line.

She gave up on finding me, rolled back onto her back, and picked up the sheets of music next to her. I imagined her fingers tapping, learning the rhythm. She had started to play again. Losing her final parent drew her oddly closer to music once more. She buried her emotions in it. Lived through it. Every day was a struggle. One she survived most days. I ensured she did. Distracting her. Reminding her of her parents and their love for her and her sister.

“Nico? Are you even listening?”

“He’s a big boy.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about.”

“Well, then why don’t you warn Vitale?”

“What the fuck have you been drinking?”

“My wife’s pussy.”

“Jesus, Nico, get your head out of your wife’s pussy and focus.”

“That’s rich. Aren't you the same kinda dirty?”

He groaned. “Besides the point.”

It was exactly the point. I frowned. A fucking tourist appeared in the distance, walking on our beach. Why the fuck was it always a man who couldn’t read the ‘no trespassing’ signs?

“What the fuck do you want me to do?”

“Bring Stefano with you when you fly back.”

“Can’t. He spoils my fun.” I liked fucking Anna on the plane. Head down. Ass up. Daria had told her about Enzo’s past with the stewardesses. The next time we’d flown in the jet, she’d asked if I’d ever fucked a stewardess. I hadn’t. Thank fuck. Then she’d disappeared into the bedroom and appeared down the aisle with a drink in her hand and wearing the tightest, shortest stewardess outfit I’d ever seen. I’d choked down the drink and fucked her obscenely hard until I’d proved her point. Yes. I apparently had a thing for stewardesses.

“Jesus, Nico, I’m your fucking Don. This is an order. Drag your brother back here.”

A thread of irritation ran in my body. Why the fuck is he approaching my wife?

“You were my brother first, and he’s your brother too.”

“He’ll soon be my dead brother if he sniffs up my sister-in-law’s ass one more time.”

“Don’t think that’s going to stop him.”

“He’s going to start a fucking war. Vitale hates me. He’s not going to give his sister to a Martello.”

“He did that already and…” I trailed off. He is talking to my wife.

Worse. She was talking back to him.

I was already moving. Stalking outside her father’s office. Mine when we made it to Marbella.

“He wanted a collaboration. Besides, he’s changed now. Lia doesn’t want to be married to a made man, and Vitale will respect her choice this time around.”

“Sounds like Stefano’s got a problem on his hands. The fucker deserves it for the shit he gave me.”

Enzo said something. I didn’t register it.