Page 23 of The Man with a Treasure

I didn’t think it could get any better, but then she orgasmed, her mouth still securely around me, pulling every drop from me.

By the time she and I were done, we were both spent. At the top of her head, I dropped to the ground and rolled to my back, wondering if intense sexual experiences could be deadly.

Not Noemi. She was calling Sal to her, pointing to her lips.

His were wet from her juices and appearing satisfied with a smirk. Crawling to Noemi, he told me, “You’re welcome.”

I tried to lift my hand to high five him in gratitude, but my arm refused to move. I just lay there, watching him get to his knees and pull down his pants, as Noemi sat up, eager to please him, too.

As his dick sunk into her mouth, his head fell back and his eyes closed in relief. His hand found her head and cradled her as if madly in love with her.

I think we were.

I think she was a boy’s dream come true, and a young man’s real-life fantasy.

She was what Sal and Angelo needed to survive… Life.

Angelo Bianchi may have appeared to be a quiet overgrown goon, but he was actually the silent and broody type, always studying his surroundings and looking out for others. His heart was his biggest weakness, which is why I vowed to Noemi to always protect it.

One day, she had surprised me when finding me in a field working. Since this was so unusual, I rushed to her. “Are you not well?”

Endearingly, she smiled at me, careful not to touch me while others were around. “I am fine but worry for Angelo.”

Instantly understanding her concern, I nodded. “Losing you is going to cut him deep.”

I loved Noemi. This she knew well, but I had Angelo and always would. I was sound. He was all I needed. My best friend was the one who filled the void of losing my brother. But Angelo’s void ran to a core only those who have lost a parent at a young age could comprehend. My mother adored her angel. And he cherished and respected her, but she couldn’t reach deep like Noemi did. That was a part of him that connected to his physical side. Not that he ever had strange relations with his mother, but somehow, Noemi offered the feminine touch that he craved. Soon, she would have to leave us behind to be loyal to her husband.

How was Angelo going to react?

Like shit.

“He can’t save the world, Rossi,” cried Noemi before she silenced her fears with her hand. She was very aware of Angelo’s beautiful trait. How he always wanted to rescue the underdog.

Seeing how upset Noemi was, I ached to hold and calm her nerves, but a few men in the field had already noticed her, so I told her, “You must go, but do not fear.” I backed away from her, arms wide while delivering a confident smile. “Trust me, for I am Sal Rossi.”

My wink gained me a smile in return.

Now, Angelo and I were waiting for the verdict about Isabella. Sitting at a lunch table in the front yard of the Giordano compound, I watched Angelo as he nervously dug the sharp point of his knife into the grooves of the wood. A doctor was seeing Isabella because she was losing weight again and looking more ill as the days passed. Angelo hadn’t been permitted to talk to her for almost a whole week.

As soon as the front door opened and the doctor came out holding his little black bag with Mr. Giordano following, Angelo jumped to his feet. But no one spoke to him. Mr. Giordano only glared at him before balancing on his cane to turn around and go back inside.

I stood. “Angelo, don’t—” but my best friend was very stubborn at times.

He ran toward the entrance. “Wait! Please tell me!”

Before Suits could catch him, he was inside. I grabbed hold of his arm, trying to pull him back out. Being in that home was not acceptable without permission. This fine day, we were without. Hence, security now grabbed us both.

From over the shoulders of Suits, who were forcibly attempting to shove Angelo and me backward, my best friend begged, “Mr. Giordano! Please, tell me—”

The head of the Giordano family turned on his old legs and fancy shoes, and shouted, “How dare you come into my home and demand answers! That is my daughter! Not yours!”

“But she is my friend.”

He growled, “She is nothing of the sort! She is only a tormented woman who needs rest.”

“Not true! She is a mother mourning for a child because she is giving up!” Angelo’s voice bounced off the high ceiling. His eyes watered in frustration, even though I was sure he was fighting it, due to the act usually being viewed as a weakness. “Please, Mr. Giordano. Help me convince her to fight on. Dare to believe. Just like you did. My father found your daughter after ten years! How can you give up on Scarlett?”

Mr. Giordano bellowed even louder, “Do not say that name! Let her soul be free!” He demanded to his Suits, “Get him out of here!”