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Alessandro chuckles. “Yes,dolcezza, I do. I don’t want to leave it in too long when you’re new to this.”
Resigned, I turn and grasp the side of the tub. Alessandro rubs my lower back as he grasps the base of the plug.
“Breathe in,” he instructs, and I inhale deeply. “And out.”
My eyes water as he slides the plug out of me. He’s being careful, I can tell, but it burns. In fact, it hurts more than when he put it inside me. Alessandro tosses the plug aside and pulls me into his arms. He comforts me for a minute and then steps away to wet a cloth at the sink. He urges me to sit on the edge of the tub and cleans between my legs with such tenderness I almost cry.
When he’s finished, he sweeps me into his arms again and carries me to the bed. He lays me down on the soft mattress and pulls the duvet over me. My eyes drift shut but before sleep claims me, I hear Alessandro whisper.
“I love you, too.”
CHAPTER 18
Emilia
“The slit in your dress is a lot more daring than it was on the mannequin,” Alessandro grumbles as the Audi SUV we’re traveling in stops at yet another red light.
It’s as if the city of New York is conspiring to make our journey as arduous as possible. Every light we’ve encountered has been red, lorries have blocked our path, cars have pulled out in front of us. We even had to come to an abrupt halt for a pedestrian who wasn’t paying attention as she wandered into the street. Each time something happens, Alessandro reaches for his gun. His hypervigilance is doing nothing to soothe my already fraying nerves.
All day, I’ve been on edge. This fundraiser is a big deal. The Volante family will be out in force and it’s vital to make a good impression. The trouble is I’ve never been to an event like this. My grandfather hated to mix with people outside of his own close circle of family and friends. I’m worried I’ll do somethingto embarrass Alessandro. I want him to be proud to have me on his arm.
“It only shows a little leg,” I reason, “and I love this dress, which, if you recall,youbought for me.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t sound happy.
I lean over and kiss my grumpy husband’s cheek. Hopefully, that will mollify him because the scowl on his face suggests he’s about to drag me back to the apartment and make me change into something matronly. That would piss me off. I meant it when I said I love this dress. A midnight blue off-the-shoulder gown with long sleeves, it hugs my waist before flaring out over my hips and cascading to the floor. It’s designed to give tantalizing glimpses of the female form, not to be in-your-face sexy. It also shows off the gorgeous diamond necklace Alessandro bought me.
“I love you in it,” Alessandro concedes, “but I’ll love you out of it even more.”
His hand lands on my thigh and squeezes. As heat flares in his eyes, I shake my head.
“Oh, no,signore.” I take his hand and move it off my leg. “There’ll be none of that.”
Thankfully, he takes my rebuff with good humor, flashing me a grin. “I guess you could use a break.”
The man is insatiable. He’s already fucked me three times today, once when we woke up, again in the afternoon when he came home to collect something from his study, and then this evening. He took me from behind after surprising me in the shower. My poor, exhausted pussy almost cries out in relief when we drawup at the hotel, putting a stop to any ideas he might have about indulging in a quickie in the back of the car.
I glance out of the window. There are a lot of people outside, some waiting their turn to be photographed as they walk the red carpet leading into the hotel and others who’ve gathered to witness the spectacle. I wonder if there will be any celebrities here tonight, not that I’d have the courage to speak to anyone famous.
The hotel doesn’t look like anything special from the outside. It’s just a modern façade with a lot of windows. It’s a tall building, though, extending farther than I can see from this close angle. Impressive floral arrangements sit at either side of the entrance.
“It’s big.” My remark is a facile one, but there’s not much else to say about the exterior.
“It’s Reznov’s pride and joy.”
“He owns it?”
“Yes.”
Tomaso, who drove us here tonight, remains seated while Alessandro gets out of the car and comes to open my door for me. I guess my possessive husband doesn’t want anyone else touching me. I can get out of a car by myself, of course, but I like Alessandro’s gentlemanly gestures. It makes me feel looked after. And to be honest, with these high heels on, I’m grateful for a little support. Alessandro offers me his hand.
“Reznov must be very rich,” I remark as Alessandro helps me out onto the sidewalk. He wraps an arm around my waist, a proprietorial gesture, and holds me close as he leads me inside, bypassing the waiting photographers.
“He is, but so are the Volantes.”
Is he saying his family is wealthy enough to own a place like this? Surely not. This hotel is incredible. The moment we step through the front door, I’m overawed. The atrium is beautiful. There’s a colorful glass art installation suspended over a modern water feature made of marble. There are large sofas set around coffee tables for people to sit and enjoy their surroundings, and off to the left is a curved reception desk. A beautiful floral scent hits me as we pass through the lobby.
Keeping my lips pursed tightly so my mouth doesn’t gape and reveal my lack of sophistication, I let Alessandro steer me along a corridor and through a double door flanked by banners advertising the Reznov Foundation, which is hosting tonight’s event.
