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The memory sends a kick to my heart.
Feeling soft and warm in bed beside her, I had wanted to kiss that smile from her lips and sink into her warm body and somehow satiate this need she’s awoken in me. But she’d kiboshed that thought with a dark look and a raised eyebrow.
“Hold your horses, sex fiend. This body isn’t a theme park ride you can climb on whenever you want a good time.” She sat up, her glorious curls cascading over her naked shoulders. “Just because you made me come a couple of times—”
“I believe it was more than a couple,” I said lightly.
“—doesn’t mean I’m open for business at your beck and call.”
“What if that beck and call promises immense sexual satisfaction with unlimited orgasms?”
Her eyes had flared, and I had watched the war take place behind them as she did what any smart Mafia princess would do. Weigh her options.
Suddenly, she was open to negotiation.
And if I’m good at anything, it’s negotiating something until I get what I want.
When my hands slid between her thighs, the hiss on her lips and the way she parted her legs were the end of her argument. She gave in to her desires, and we spent our morning doing the more pleasurable things two naked people can do in bed.
I grin to myself, ignoring the blare of car horns as I overtake cars and zoom into the parking garage beneath my office above the cocktail den.
I pull out my phone and send her a message.
I was wrong. You’re not going to kill me. My hangover is.
Three dots appear immediately. Then a picture of a boob shows on my screen.
A delicious boob with a taut pink nipple that screams to be sucked and licked and teased with my tongue.
I quickly text back.
I stand corrected.
Riding the elevator, I remember the little whimpers she made when I bent her over the balustrade, and a wave of lust kicks my hangover in the balls. I smile and remember how her knees went weak when my cock slid into her from behind, and the moan on her lips as I conjured her orgasm from her with slow, torturous strokes.
I don't doubt she still hates me. But now that I know she wants me, the potential for pleasure is boundless.
“Nico!” Anastacia’s worried voice greets me the moment I step out through the door and into the reception area. “I’ve tried calling you all morning.”
“And I’ve ignored every single one of them,” I say as I keep walking, disregarding her look of indignation. “Cancel any appointments I have today and reschedule them for tomorrow.”
She trots after me. “But tomorrow is your wedding day!”
I open my door. “Then reschedule them for the day after.”
Not waiting for a reply, I close the door, my hangover throbbing in my skull. Now that the party is over, and my dopamine levels are slipping, my headache is gaining power.
“Well, well, well, someone looks like he had a good time last night.”
I groan when I see my brother sitting on one of the couches by the window. He’s helped himself to an espresso and sips it from a small white cup.
“I’m hungover as fuck. What do you want?” I growl, fixing myself a coffee.
“Is that what we’re calling this?” he says, gesturing with his hand to point out my unshaven face, disheveled hair, and tired eyes. “Looks like someone didn’t get much sleep.”
He wiggles his eyebrows, and I groan, rubbing my temples as my coffee drips from the machine.
He chuckles. “I’d ask if you had a good time last night, but I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.”
“Get to the reason you’re here.”
He rises to his feet. “I’ve just come from our father’s house.”
“And?” I drag the cup to my lips and almost die from pleasure as the first mouthful of coffee hits my tastebuds. The nectar is a much-needed elixir to the violence occurring against my brain as we speak.
Massimo puts down his cup and comes to stand in front of me. “Thought you might like to know how his cruise went.”
I don’t. But my pounding headache hasn’t sent me blind. I can see my brother is up to something.
“And?”
He grins. “The old bastard got married.”
“He fucking did what?”
Massimo can’t contain his laughter. “He brought home a new bride.”
“Fuck.” I drain my cup and immediately make another.
It’s too early, and I’m too dusty for this shit.
Since stepping down as a don, our father has become impulsive.
A trait he could never flex as the head of the Mafia unless he wanted to die.
Now he does whatever he wants, when he wants.
A trip to Vegas here.
Buying a Learjet there.
“Boys, I’m taking a three-month cruise around the world.”
Now, he’s gone and gotten himself hitched.
To a stranger.
I swear, my father is as reckless as he is impulsive.
