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My crush is obviously further along than I anticipated.
I take a shower, forcing myself not to think how my husband had two—maybe even more—women in his apartment before lunch. I force my focus to my business, which is the one thing that will never deceive or cheat on me. There, I’m the one in charge, and if I’m not careful, I’ll get a bad rep if I don’t get back to it soon.
I left things hanging when I went to Lake Como, and the first thing I did when I got that laptop from Stephano was to put my out-of-office on with no specific return date. At least it’s summer in Europe and business slows down significantly, but Ican’t afford to ignore the emails in my inbox for much longer. I’ll have to check with Stephano if I should even answer them. Who knows what the ripple effect could be from a few answered client emails.
By the time I’m dressed and head downstairs, Stephano is stepping out of his office with the redhead. I freeze, but it’s too late. She’s already spotted me, and it hits me he has some pimping thing going.
My stomach revolts at the idea. Virgin auctions, brothels, sex trafficking. It’s all in the realm of usual Mafia fare, and I don’t know why I didn’t see this through the smoke and mirrors of Matteo’s classy, über-luxury apartment. It’s so easy to forget where the money is coming from if you don’t have to think about it.
Having these women in his apartment, right under my nose, is like a backhanded slap across the cheek.
The woman drops her gaze as something in my expression must have spooked her.
“I’m glad you’ve moved on, Steph,” she says, her words clearly audible in the double volume of the apartment. “It’s what we’ve all hoped for.” Before I can say anything, the redhead makes for the front door, and Stephano is there to see her off. “Same place, same time next month. Unless something comes up?”
“Yes.”
He closes the door behind her and meets my gaze where I’m still waiting on the stairs. Waiting for what? To see how my knight in shining armor is a villain like the rest?
As if he can sense my mood from what he reads on my face, he just shakes his head. “Here we are again. I wouldn’t jump to conclusions if I were you, my angel.”
Myangel. He’s the devil in disguise.
“Enlighten me, then?” I hack back. “If those two women aren’t prostitutes working for your seedy little Mafia operations, then I don’t know what they are.”
“Prostitution? Unless it directly affects our business, what they do in their spare time is none of my concern,” he bites back, but there’s an angry tremor in his voice. “For your information, none of our girls need to turn to that as a last resort.”
“No?” I’m taking the stairs again, not keen to shout this conversation across the expanse of his apartment. “Our girls. I know what that means. No need to sugar coat it, Stephano.”
“Do you wake up like this every morning?” he asks as he tracks my steps to the kitchen.
The closer he homes in, the faster my heart beats.
“And how is that? In an empty bed with myhusbandhosting an orgy in his office?”
I’ve gone too far. This is childish. He’s a man, and this marriage is fake.No sexandno kissingare my rules. If this drags on for months and he chooses to take a mistress or fuck one of those girls, I should be happy, not furious.
I’ve reached the kitchen island, but he doesn’t stop. Stephano keeps coming at me and traps me against the cold marble. His one hand is on my hip as the other slips to my ponytail and he twists it around his palm. Every movement is measured, controlled, and does nothing but spike my pulse and spread lust to the last corner of my being. This is the problem. And it’s a big one.
“Are you jealous, Mrs. Scalera?” he asks as he manipulates my head back with my ponytail, forcing me to look at him.
“No, I’m not.”
He stares into my eyes, and I see the amusement flashing in his own. His gaze consumes my face, and I swear the only thing he wants to do is kiss me. Hard. Possessively.
“You’re a bad liar. Let’s set a few things straight, shall we?” He leans closer to my ear, and his words are soft but crystal-clear as he runs his lips along the shell. “Firstly, if you want to keep this as amarriage on paperonly, don’t walk around with that please-fuck-me look in your eyes.”
Goose bumps spread and pebble my nipples as wet heat invades my sex.Oh, God.
“Secondly. Don’t insult me by suggesting I’d fuck a prostitute in my office while my wife is upstairs, sleeping like the angel she is.” He lets go of me, and I firm my grip on the island to keep up straight. He steps away and heads for the front door. “I’m going out. Tony is here to look after you and drive you to see Carla if you want.”
He opens the front door and at the last second turns back to me. “Rest assured, Gigi. What happened this morning won’t happen again.”
He’s gone. I drop my head back and take a deep breath. The double entendre in his last words is clear. Either he’s never meeting women again in this apartment while I’m sleeping upstairs…or I won’t wake up alone like that again.
Butterflies stir in my stomach at his idle promise and delicious threat.
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