Page 86 of Tempted By the Devil

When he does return to my mouth for a kiss it’s to tell me there’s more to come.

“I can’t wait to taste you,dolcezza,” he says, pressing his lips to mine. “Leccherò quella figa per ore.”

I’m not sure what he’s saying, but something tells me it’s very dirty.

I shudder hearing the rumbly tenor of his voice and the heavy cadence of his breathing as he kisses me deeper. His palm fills with my bare breast, fingers tugging at the same nipple he was just sucking.

We’re seconds away from abandoning the jacuzzi altogether and heading inside to his bedroom.

A clear of a throat tells us we’re no longer alone.

Rafael glances over his shoulder, then shields my body with his and growls, “Ti avevo detto di non interrompermi quando sono con lei.”

It’s Maurizio. He stands far enough away that he recognizes we’re in a private moment.

“Ci sono affari importanti. È un’emergenza. Vito vuole parlare con te.”

Rafael’s jaw sets. “Dammi un momento.”

Maurizio returns indoors.

Rafael swears under his breath and then helps fix my bikini top. The playful air about him is gone, his brow lined. “I have to go for a moment,dolcezza. Business calls.”

“Right now? It’s 9 p.m.”

“It should only be thirty, forty minutes tops. I’ll return as soon as I can. I’ll have Mara bring you a robe. You can head to my bedroom and get comfy, okay? Make yourself at home.”

Despite his marked irritation, he speaks to me so gently that I nod.

“Okay,” I say, adding an uncertain smile. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Good,dolcezza. We’ll pick up where we left off.”

With a parting kiss to my cheek, he climbs out of the bubbling jacuzzi and disappears through the same door Maurizio had appeared from.

I watch him go with a sigh, wondering what business could possibly be so important he’s dropping everything at nine o’clock at night. If maybe Rafael Calderone isn’t the unsuspecting businessman he’s claimed to be after all.

20

RAFAEL

I’m fumingon my way to my office.

The door bangs open as I stride through and snatch the phone out of Maurizio’s hands.

“Don Vito, i miei più sentiti rispetti, ma non mi aspettavo la vostra chiamata a quest’ora.”

“Sono stato abbastanza paziente,” comes his wheezing voice on the other end. “Dimmi che il prodotto arriverà presto in strada.”

“Ci sono state complicazioni con le spedizioni. Sto facendo quello che posso.”

His silence meets my excuses, and I grit my teeth, more than aware of what he thinks.

Don Vito Bellucci is known for his cunning. His ruthlessness. His brutality. Today I’m known as Il Diavolo on the streets of Newport, but there was once a time where Vito was the devil in question.

As far as some are aware, hestillis Il Diavolo.

The man wearing the mask has never changed. He’s ageless. A timeless figure who runs the underground criminal operations of the city and rules with an iron fist.

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