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“You look amazing,” I blurt out. “But where are the cowboy boots?” Her cowboy-chic outfit took center stage in my fantasies last night.
“They weren't all that comfortable,” she responds, a shy smile playing on her lips. She runs a hand down her dress, and I notice a steady flush creeping up her neck. “You don’t look too bad yourself. If you overlook those too-tight pants.”
With a parting smirk, she strides down the gangplank towards the dock, and I have to take a minute to breathe, not only because of the chinos clinging to my thighs, but because watching the sway of Aly’s ass is making my dick lengthen against the zipper.
Man, I really need some new clothes.
Aly however, is a different story. Given the chance, I’d happily buy her the entire yacht’s wardrobe, because not a single day has passed when she hasn’t looked like a queen. Then again, I am biased. She could wear a paper bag and I’d probably be bowled over.
Aly strolls towards the harbor area without looking back, knowing I’ll follow her lead. And I do. There’s something different about her today, a new energy I can’t quite put my finger on.
Earlier, when she was in my office, she thanked me for keeping her safe. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. This is the woman who nearly clawed my eyes out, who was throwing random shit at my head a few days ago.
And now? Well, I can’t say we’re the best of friends, but she doesn’t seem quite as hostile. Whatever her reasons are, I’m just grateful for it.
“You gonna hurry up or what?” Her voice breaks through my thoughts. She’s standing, waiting for me to catch up, on the edge of the harbor, one hand perched on her hip.
“Just enjoying the view,” I tell her, a suggestive eyebrow raised. She throws me a mock scowl, but there’s no sting in it. It’s almost… teasing.
We stroll past the bustling cafes and bars dotting the port area, veering towards the winding streets that head into the old town. I wouldn’t dare reach for her hand, but I do offer her my arm like any gentleman would. After a moment’s pause, she takes it, and we walk together, looking like any other loved-up couple on holiday.
“You’ve been to Lipari before?” Aly asks me.
“A few times over the years. Mostly for business. We have connections with the Cosa Nostra in Sicily, but Kira drags me here if we can spare a day or two. There’s something about this island that feels off the grid.” My familiarity with Lipari has worked out in my favor; I have contacts with the best shopkeepers on the island.
Aly’s lips curl into a soft smile. “I’m glad Kira forces you to take a break now and again. You’ve all been working so hard since your papa died. May he rest in peace.”
A sick feeling crawls up my spine. Even in death, my father doesn’t deserve her respect. “We’ve modernized the bratva,” I admit. “It’s not like when our fathers ran it. We’ve expanded the legitimate side of the business, and we use the casinos for laundering. Online is the new battlefield, and cybercrimes are my domain.” I smile bitterly. “I did go into tech after all, just on the other side of the law.”
My gaze flicks to her face, trying to gauge her reaction. When I was with Aly, I dreamed of being a video game designer or something else equally cool. But, of course, that was not an option for the pakhan’s son.
Aly twists her head to look at me, her voice sincere. “I guess it’s all worked out for you in the end. How does the expression go? All’s well that ends well.”
I press my lips together. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“No, seriously, you should be proud. If there is an organization that needs modernizing, it is the bratva. Presumably with cybercrimes, there’s less violence. Or at least, I assume there is,” she adds with a shrug. “I don’t keep on top of bratva business.”
Pride is the last thing I feel but admitting that is a confession I’m not ready to make.
Soon enough, we close in on Giuseppe’s tucked-away shop. I rap twice on the door, pause, then knock twice more. It’s after business hours, but he’s opening as a favor for me. I didn’t tell him the reason for my visit, but I think he’ll be pleased by the money I’m about to drop.
How Aly will take it is another question entirely.
A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Giuseppe. He’s a short man sporting an impressive white mustache that reaches down to his chin. The first time I met him, he struck me as a real-life Geppetto, the toymaker who brought Pinocchio to life.
The shop is small, and while nothing special to look at, Giuseppe is known as the finest jeweler in the region. It’s not like I’m a regular client, but Kira is, and she’s hauled me in here more than once. And let’s just say Giuseppe has a soft spot for repeat customers with deep pockets.
Giuseppe greets me heartily, before dipping to plant a kiss on each of Aly’s cheeks in true local style. He lets loose with a torrent of Italian, welcoming her to his modest shop. I bet she hasn’t a clue what he’s saying—I can barely keep up, and my Italian isn’t half bad. But her eyes find mine, and she gives me an amused shrug.
Once Giuseppe finally gives her some space, her gaze sweeps across the room in surprise, taking in the glass-encased jewelry and displays. “I thought we were going clothes shopping? Why are we here?” she whispers.
“I had a personal shopper pick out the clothes and deliver them here earlier.” I point to two massive paper bags in the corner. “But when you’re passing by the finest jeweler in Southern Italy and your fiancée is without a ring, you stop by and get her one.”
Her hands fall to her hips and she fixes me with a narrowed gaze. “You lured me here under false pretenses.”
“Did I?” I scratch my chin, a small smile on my lips.
“I didn’t agree to ring shopping. I just agreed to help you find some damn clothes that fit. I’m sick of seeing your ass shrink-wrapped in Dad pants.”
