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Wait? Fuck.
I'm no masochist, so I head to my bedroom, stripping off my clothes and stepping into the shower. If the gods are with me, this will be the last time I have to do this. Aria will be on the plane, and when she gets here, I’ll be able to give up the fantasy to have the real thing.
The idea of it makes me even harder. I imagine her on her knees, that luscious mouth of hers wrapped around my dick. I stroke myself as I picture her dark eyes looking up at me with a blend of mischief and desire.
Or maybe we’ll be in bed, her long, curvaceous legs wrapped around my hips as I sink my cock deep into her sweet pussy. I stroke again, the electric current crackling through my dick. I switch up the scene and she’s riding me, bouncing up and down my dick, her round tits bouncing. My hand strokes like there's no tomorrow. All the images morph into one as my balls contract and my orgasm releases on a yell.
I press both hands against the wall and dunk my head under the shower as my breathing comes back under control.
What am I going to do if she’s not on that plane?
I push that worry away. She’ll be there. She has to be.
I get out of the shower and put on a robe, resisting the urge to call Bruno to see what's going on in New York. I'm not even sure she got the note. Maybe I should call my contact to see whether the note has been picked up.
I chastise myself for being such a pussy. The need for this woman is emasculating me. I'm not a man who sits around and waits for what he wants. I ask, and if I don't get it, I take it. My original plan had been to do just that. I would meet her at the bookstore and get her away from her bodyguards, then bring her here. But I’ve sent Bruno because Sabini is a fucking pain in my side and because I know Niko is on the lookout for me.
I suppose in some ways, this is a test because I don't just want Aria. I want her to want me too. I want her to grab life and go after what she wants. And yes, I want her to defy her brother. Oh, how I'd love to see the look on his face when he realizes Aria has left him for me. Assuming that's what she's done.
Unable to help myself, I check my watch. It’s closing in on ten o'clock. If she's going to make it to the private airport on time, she's going to have to leave soon.
I slip on a pair of lounge pants underneath my robe and cross the hall from my room to the guestroom that I've asked Roberta, my housekeeper, to make up for Aria. The room is set up exactly as I think Aria will like it. Of course, there's all the comforts she would need in a bed, sitting area, and a large ensuite bath with an extra-deep tub to soak in. Imagining her wet and slick with soap makes my dick twitch again.
But the decor is also what I believe will fit Aria’s style. It has a four-poster bed, and rich, colorful tapestries illustrating the history of my Family in Italy adorn the walls. A plush chaise lounge sits near the window, perfect for a Mafia princess to lounge in. As much as I hope she likes the room, what I really want is for her to move into my room. Small steps.
Determining that everything is set, I exit and head back to my office downstairs. I need to keep myself busy because I'm driving myself crazy with anticipation. I pour myself a finger of Moscatello and grab a biscotti from the jar in the bar I keep in my office.
I sit at my desk, turning on my laptop and forcing myself to look at spreadsheets. My clubs are doing well, even without the propped-up numbers from laundering my illegal funds. But my cash cow, as Americans would say, is my black-market import-export business. I move anything and everything from antiques, art, booze, and even regular commodities like olive oil.
When my father took over as Don, he not only had the mentorship of my grandfather, but he also had a formal education with degrees in business and accounting. My father told me there had once been a time when he thought he would make the Conte family legit, and in doing so he built businesses like the clubs that were very successful.
But there's something about crime that lures people in. Perhaps it's living on the edge. Maybe it's the cunning required to hide all your misdeeds in plain sight. Perhaps it's living in a world in which the laws are different and justice is delivered quickly.
My father passed down his teachings to me, and I run a well-oiled organization. Most of my men are the sons of the men who worked for my father, grandsons of the men who'd worked for my grandfather. If I have a problem, it doesn’t come from within my organization. It comes from outside, either in the form of law enforcement trying to poke its head in my business or rival Families.
Today, it's Enzo Sabini who’s causing me the most headache. The Contes and Sabinis have feuded for generations, but there had been a respect between the Dons. But Enzo is different. While his father operated similarly to my father, starting out with diplomacy and negotiations before reverting to violence, Enzo is an egomaniac hothead, drunk on power. I suppose that wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't such a fucking idiot.
For a while, Enzo was smart enough not to take me on directly, but over the last several months, he's been encroaching into my territories, occasionally causing disruption in the transport of my products. I recently gave him the respect he didn't deserve by meeting him face-to-face and giving him a warning. Apparently, he’s decided not to heed it. In fact, I think by meeting with him, I boosted his ego, making him think he is more powerful than he really is. It won't be long before I have to kill him. Until that time, I have my men keeping an eye on Enzo and his men.
I look at my watch without even thinking, once again checking the time. Eleven. My plane leaves from New York in an hour. Will Aria be on it?
3
ARIA
What's that saying about doing the same thing over and over and expecting something different? If I decide not to get on the plane to Italy, I'm essentially signing up for the life that I currently have. A life I don't really like. So, with excitement and a whole lot of nerves, I rise from the edge of my bed and pull my bag out of the closet.
I’ve been vacillating for so long, I'm not sure that I've given myself enough time to get to the airport in White Plains. But I have to try.
I use my phone to order a rideshare to meet me a block away. God, I hope Niko isn’t monitoring my phone in real time.
I peek out the hall and then make my way toward the back of the house, to the servants’ staircase. There's no way I'll be able to make it out the front door without being seen. I just have to hope that none of the house staff is lingering.
I make it to the back stairs and head down, stopping before I reach the bottom landing. I listen to the left of me. Staff are in the kitchen preparing dinner. To the left are the servants’ quarters. Their doors are shut.
I tiptoe as quickly as I can down the hall to the back door, pushing it open and stepping outside. This is where things get really tricky because there's no way into or out of Niko's property without a guard or alarm. Fortunately, I know there's a gate with a code, so my real challenge is the surveillance cameras. If I'm going to be stopped, it will likely be now.
I make my way through the garden, trying to stay close to the shrubs and trees until I reach the gate. I quickly poke in the number and hear the gate unlatch. I jerk it open and rush through, practically sprinting to the left toward the end of the block where the rideshare had better be waiting for me.
