Page 16 of I Would Die For You

She chuckles. “We saw each other just this morning.”

“And it’s been at least seven hours since.” I didn’t want to leave her bed, but I had to go back to my apartment and get ready for this family lunch. It wouldn’t have done to go with mussed hair and wrinkled clothes while doing the walk of shame.

A harrumph leaves her mouth, and she’s looking at me with narrowed eyes. That’s not how I want or even need the afternoon to go, so I wave around.

“Do you like antiques?”

I’ll be toast if she doesn’t. But there’s tons of other stuff we can do around town, too.

However, I see the moment her eyes widen, the surprise lighting them up with a spark I’ve never seen before in her. There’s literally a light burning in her gaze now, a small flush of color on her cheeks painting it the same delicate candy floss pink as her dress.

“I take it that’s a yes?” I ask. “Welcome to theGran Balonof Torino, the largest flea market in town. Every other Sunday, it’s the spot to be at if you’re into antiques and vintage collectibles.”

Kaya frowns a little. “But do you like it?”

“Not the point,ama. Today is all about you.”

She blinks. “Really?”

I nod. “Really.”

That light in her eyes? It spreads onto her whole face. I swear it’s the most brilliant smile she’s ever given me as she laughs out loud and then saunters to the market to marvel at the pieces in the very first stall she comes across.

“Look at this!” She beams at me. “How pretty is this?”

Then she’s flittering like a chirpy butterfly to another stall selling furniture that looks like it should belong in one of the manypalazzosaround town. It’s a joy to watch her. She’s so open, expansive, effusive. So unlike the woman I’ve known so far, and even the one all of us in theBorgataknow about. It’s common knowledge it’s due to her that we’re making busts on the Albanian’s network every other week. Don Giacomo isn’t one of those Dons who loots and keeps treasures for himself. As such, we’ve all been getting a piece of the pie, all thanks to Kaya Norton.

“Stefano, look at this,” she sings from where she’s inspecting a low console table. “Wouldn’t it be perfect in a vestibule?”

I smile and nod. It would be indeed, a perfect place to drop keys and other paraphernalia when getting home, leaving shoes underneath before swooping into the house to find my wife in the kitchen opening a bottle of crisp white, a throaty laugh pouring from her long throat as I wrap her in my arms from behind, my erect cock already poking at the crack of her ass. She’d rub her buttocks against me before bending forward and spreading her legs wide. After bringing my zipper down, my cock would find her wet pussy begging to be filled, and Kaya, she’d make this little sound she does when I impale her…

Fuck me! Kaya…and my home? I can see it all too clearly.

She’s not here for much longer, though, and ultimately, she’ll want to leave for the States again.

She’s not for me.

But can she be? All things considered, that’s what I want, it appears. My mother’s words also flit in my mind.The heart wants what the heart wants.I’d thought it was my cock doing all the wanting—bastardogot one up on me, because it let my heart slip in unnoticed right behind.

Question is now, what the fuck do I do about this?

Chapter 6 Kaya

WhenthesummonsfromDon Rossi comes, I start quaking in my shoes. It’s been three weeks since he last called me up, on the night when he asked me to look after Stefano. It’s been way longer since I’ve done anything sexual with the Don, even if our last time was just me putting on a show for him.

What does he want tonight? If he gives me the small nod toward the rug, I won’t be able to say no. I won’t be allowed to. The Don isn’t the sort of man who will rape a woman, but my consent was never part of the equation with him; it was a given, as one of his girls.

This is so unlike what I’ve known with Stefano, the freedom he’s granted me, the liberation of knowing whatever happens between us will be on my terms.

As such, I am dreading going to the mezzanine office. Having tasted sex and having a full say in it, I don’t ever want to be in a position where I’ll need to let any man take what he wants from me with his hands, his mouth, his cock. The only man I want to allow to do this is Stefano…and ultimately, this simply means I’m choosing to let him fuck me. I’m not getting attached, or worse, falling for him. I like him enough, I love his dick and the way he pulls the most carnal urges from me and then fulfils them above and beyond what I’d expect from a lover.

That’s all it is.

It’s not feelings.

It can’t be feelings.

Even so, I’ve crossed the line which allowed me to fuck any man because it’s my job. I don’t want that for myself anymore.

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