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“I’m sure you do, but I’m quite tired, and if you have nothing else to say, I’d rather be sleeping.” Her change in tone is confusing, making me push for a reason.
“Why are you so tired, bambolina? You said yourself it’s the weekend. No days off with you, are there?” I hear an intake of breath over the line, then she starts to speak, only to stop again. Finally, she answers me, and it’s not what I was expecting.
“I went to see my mother today,” she whispers, and now it makes sense. I know it would have been a big deal, especially after only finding out last night where she was buried.
“And?” I ask her, wanting to see how she feels.
“And… it was nice,” she says on another sigh.
“Good.” My voice softens as I match hers. I wish I was there with her to catch any of her tears that might be falling, to see her so vulnerable. Knowing she doesn’t show that side of herself often, but she did with me, just like she is now, I want to be the only one.
“Thank you, Nico. I wouldn’t have found her if it wasn’t for you and those boxes.” I swallow, not expecting her gratitude and surprised that after all that she is doing, she can still see a silver lining.
“You better rest up. There are still many boxes for us to get through,” I say, steering the conversation into safer territory. More so for me than for her.
“Yes, boss,” she says, back to her usual tone.
“Goodnight, Emilia.”
“Goodnight, Nico,” she replies softly, and I end the call.
Throwing my phone on the bedside table, I stand, needing a shower to wash the day away. I make my way to the bathroom, stripping my clothes as I go, and my body relaxes as soon as the hot spray of water hits my skin. I grab the soap as I think about Emilia. I think about her soft skin, her bright blue eyes, and her lips. Her fucking lips are what my dreams are made of.
My hand travels down to my cock. I am hard, so fucking hard, just thinking about her. I begin to move my hand up and down my length as I remember her bare legs and her pink-painted toes, her soft stomach, full breasts, and the curve of her ample hips. Her sharp, sassy mouth, and all the things I want to do with it. I grit my teeth, imagining my hand is her lips, taking me into her throat, the warm water her mouth, sucking me, swallowing all of me, before I come undone at the mental image, losing control and emptying myself in my shower.
Losing control to her.
14
EMILIA
As the car drives down into the darkened basement, I can’t help but get chills. Without him in the car next to me, I feel cold and uneasy. I wring my hands together, the knot in my stomach only relaxing when the car pulls up in the cleanest basement I have ever seen and I see Nico standing and waiting for me.
“Morning, bambolina,” he says, opening my door. The nickname he has given me now warms me like a soft blanket as I step out of the door toward him. He is one of the most powerful men in this country, he could kill someone with the flick of his wrist, yet his soft tone with me makes me feel like we’re on equal footing. Like he cares truly about me.
We are both tough, yet soft when we need to be, it seems. It’s something I haven’t experienced before from someone else, yet I crave it. When I told him about visiting my mother, he didn’t say much at all, but his tone was kind. Even throughout the whole conversation, he was pressing my buttons, only I was enjoying it. It felt like something shifted in me. I’ve opened up to him more last night than I have with any other man, and I wonder why it seems to be so easy to do with him.
“Morning,” I say, as my eyes hone in on him, He looks devilishly handsome as always in his black slacks and black shirt. His hand grips mine as he helps me out of the car, and with his sleeves rolled up, I can see his forearms, covered in tattoos, with thick veins that run from his wrists to his elbows.
I, on the other hand, kept it casual today. Wearing my jeans, and basic white t-shirt, I dressed for comfort, considering I will be sprawled out on the floor again, no doubt surrounded by paperwork. The only saving grace for me is the soft carpet that already beckons me.
“Let’s go,” he says, not letting go of my hand, and together we walk through the basement to the door.
"You don’t need to hold my hand. I won’t run away, you know,” I say with a smirk.
“I know,” he replies, giving me a wicked grin and a wink as he grips my hand firmer, and my heart beats even harder. There he goes again. Hand holding, the coffee, carrying me to the car. The small everyday things, that cost nothing but mean everything, they mean so much to me. Even though I should be fully professional and keep my guard up, bit by bit, the man belonging to the mob cracks away at my wall of independence. I expected him to be so different from who he is, and now, instead of my heart beating out of fear of him, it beats for an entirely different reason.
We are walking slower today, so I take the time to look around. While there are still many men down here, there are less than before. Perhaps they actually get a day of rest unlike me. They are all dressed impeccably, in dark clothes similar to Nico’s, and I see a tall man over to the side who I recognize. He looks up at me, giving me a brief nod with a small smile, which I return.
Nico squeezes my hand again as we walk through the side door and down the corridors and hallways to the apartment.
“Here.” He pushes a cup in my direction, and as soon as the coffee aroma hits my nostrils, I immediately relax even more.
“Thanks.” I hold the coffee in both my hands, feeling the warmth as I bring it to my lips and sip. My eyes flick to his over the top of my mug. He is staring right at me, watching me as I pull the cup down and swallow.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I question him. The way his eyes are on me, it is like he can look into my soul.
“I like looking at you,” he says confidently, giving nothing else away, yet butterflies take flight in my belly and the world is still for a moment. I like him looking at me. I like his eyes wandering my body, like they are undressing me slowly. It has been a long time since any man made me feel like this. Nico is doing a damn fine job at making my knees weak.
