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“My wedding shoes.”
The white court shoes look odd with my skinny blue jeans, but Alessandro seems to have only just noticed.
“Right, because they’re the only ones you’ve got.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “We’ll need to get you some shoes.”
He sounds so grudging, I want to tell him I’ll buy my own damned shoes, but I don’t have that option. As much as I hate it, I’m relying on Alessandro to meet my basic clothing needs for now. At the earliest opportunity, I need to contact my bank about getting access to my account. There’s not a lot of money in it, a pittance by my husband’s standards, but what’s there is mine. I worked hard for it.
Alessandro turns his attention to his cellphone for the rest of the journey into town and I try to enjoy the scenery. It’s pretty around here. The tree-lined road carries us into a town with buildings of the traditional style I associate with New England. We pull up outside a brown brick building. It has two bay windows with green trim around them. The door is wood with a glass panel in the top half. The sign above it says ‘Serenity.’
“We’re getting the massage first?”
I’d have arranged things the other way around. A massage would relieve our aching muscles after an intensive shopping experience. Alessandro doesn’t answer me.
“Wait here,” he says tersely as he gets out of the car.
I look over my shoulder as men pour out of the vehicles that escorted us. They form two lines to create a path between mycar door and the store. I have to clasp my hands together to stop them from shaking. Is it necessary to have all these guards? It’s kind of scary to imagine this being my life from now on.
Alessandro opens my door and holds his hand out to me. I don’t dare refuse his help in front of so many men, so I place my hand in his and climb out of the car. I love the brick-paved sidewalk and greenery but don’t have a chance to take in my surroundings as Alessandro hurries me into the building. A stocky, dark-haired man who I recognize as one of Alessandro’s bodyguards from San Vicente is already inside. I guess he came in advance to check everything was okay.
“All clear, boss.” He confirms what I thought. “I’ll wait out here for you.”
He goes and stands by the window, presumably to keep watch. As he moves out of the way, a middle-aged redhead in a smart white tunic and black pants approaches us.
“Mr. Volante.” Her accent sounds French. “My name is Sylvie. I am so honored to have you here.”
Her simpering tone pisses me off. The man has enough of an ego without people bowing and scraping to him. To hide my displeasure, which Alessandro would no doubt mistake for jealousy, I look around the reception area. While the exterior of the building is very traditional, it’s incredibly modern in here. The wooden floors are stained with a dark brown varnish. There’s a huge bronze panel behind a sleek black desk. A metal sculpture sits in the corner. I can’t work out what it’s supposed to be. A tree, maybe? Whatever it is, it’s grotesque.
“Come right this way,” Sylvie says.
We follow her along a narrow corridor and into a room with low lighting that creates a relaxing atmosphere. There are two massage tables at the center of the space, with enough room between them for a masseur to stand. The tables are draped with crisp white sheets and the room is decorated in a deep turquoise that reminds me of the sea.
“Please go ahead and change. Yelena and Simone will be in shortly.”
Sylvie makes what appears to be an awkward curtsey before turning and leaving the room. The Volante name has a powerful effect on people. Heaven knows, it made me nervous when Alessandro first told me who he was. I’m not sure possessing the name makes me any less wary of it.
The moment Sylvie closes the door, Alessandro paces around the room. He looks in drawers, behind the curtains of the changing cubicles, and under the tables.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Of course,dolcezza.” His manner is casual, as if searching the room like he expects to find a bomb is a normal thing to do. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
That suggests there’s something for him to worry about. I don’t press for more information. He’s unlikely to share anything with me and it will probably piss him off if he thinks I’m nagging.
“We’d better get ready.” Brushing past Alessandro, I head into one of the changing cubicles. It’s a small space with a wooden chair in the corner. There’s a white robe hanging on the wall. As I’m about to draw the heavy blue curtain across, Alessandro steps into the space, crowding me as I’m forced back against thewall. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he wants. He wraps his arms around my waist and bends to kiss me.
“Oh, no,signore.” I shove him back. “We’re here for a massage. Whatever you have in mind will have to wait.”
Ignoring me, he pops open the button on my jeans and lowers the zipper. He slips his hand inside. Since I’m not wearing panties, there’s no further barrier to him accessing my pussy. I hate that I had to leave the house without underwear. I feel uncomfortable without a bra, even though my breasts aren’t particularly big.
As Alessandro caresses my intimate flesh, I forget all about underwear. In fact, all coherent thought flies from my mind when he pushes two fingers inside me. After last night, I’m still a little tender, but as Alessandro slowly fucks me with his fingers, I feel myself growing wetter. My legs tremble, and I have to grab onto Alessandro’s arm for support.
“Is that good,dolcezza?”
“So good.” My eyes roll back in my head as the heel of his palm rubs against my clit.
“Yeah?” He pumps his fingers. “You want to come?”
“Yes.”
