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The Italian Obsession

Page 264

by T.L. Swan

Announcing my marriage. Planning for a baby.

What I am is stressed beyond belief.

“We’ll find him. You have my word,” Lorenzo says from his seat beside me.

“He’s in hiding.” He shakes his head in frustration. “But he can’t hide forever. When he shows his face, he’s a dead man.”

My buzzer sounds. “Mr. Ferrara, I have Sofia here to see you.”

I roll my eyes. Fuck, this is the last thing I need now.

“Give me five minutes,” I say to Lorenzo. I push the intercom. “Send her in.”

The door opens and the beautiful Sofia comes into view.

“Hello.” I stand, smile, and I kiss her cheek. Lorenzo kisses her in a greeting, also.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, trying to act calm.

She clutches her handbag nervously. “I’m being followed.”

I frown. “By who?”

“There’s a man. He’s been following me for three days now.”

“What man?”

She looks around nervously. “I don’t know who he is. I saw him the other day when I came out of my apartment, and now I keep seeing him.”

“Are you sure he’s following you?”

“Positive.”

“Lorenzo, organize some guards for Sofia, please.”

“Of course.” He stands. “Can you describe him for me?”

“He’s outside right now. He’s… he’s downstairs,” she stammers. “Blue suit. White shirt.”

Lorenzo’s eyes meet mine. “Get Sergio and take care of it,” I order.

Lorenzo rushes from the room as Sofia runs her fingers through her hair. She’s visibly upset. “I don’t know what to do. What if I’m next?”

“You’re not.” I take her into my arms and hold her. “It’s all right,” I whisper into her hair. “You’re safe now.”

“I haven’t felt safe since you left me,” she whispers against my neck. I feel her breath on my skin.

She lifts her hand and the gold bangles that she always wears rattle together.

It’s a familiar sound—one that evokes memories. I feel an unwelcome wave of arousal seep into my body. I instantly release her from my grip and take a step back.

When Sofia fucks, the sound of her bangles hitting together echoes throughout the room. The harder she fucks, the louder the sound.

Fucking her is like a game a child would play to hear the sound—to make it louder. It’s the ultimate aphrodisiac. A goal that drives a man wild. Anytime I hear bangles clang together, I have a physical reaction. I clench my jaw as I try to chase away the memory.

“I miss you,” she whispers.

“Don’t.”