Page 69 of Mob Princess

22

Bonnie

As I stirredmy creamer into my coffee, I couldn't stop smiling at Israel from across the breakfast nook. He read his newspaper and peeked around the edge every once in a while, tossing me a playful wink. And oh, how it filled my heart with joy. “How’d you sleep?”

He chuckled. “Well. You?”

I sipped my coffee. “I’m a bit sore, but other than that, I got a great night’s rest.”

He peered around his newspaper. “Sore?”

“A bit.”

He put his newspaper down. “Are you okay? Should I call someone?”

I giggled. “You overly fuss sometimes, you know that?”

“I just want you to be all right. Should I call someone?”

I reached for his hand. “I’m fine. Just a bit sore from, well, you know.”

He took my hand. “Trust me, I know. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t something else.”

I sipped my coffee as I gazed into his eyes, but all I could think about was the night before. How many times he’d taken me. How many ways he’d had me. The episode in the shower this morning had been icing on the cake, and I’d never felt more alive or more cherished in all my life. I never wanted things to end. I simply wanted to keep going and let him explore my body until I was spent, and he was satiated.

The elevator came to life.

“Are you expecting someone?” I asked.

Israel stood from the breakfast nook. “No, I’m not. You stay here.”

“Israel, I’m not sure if—”

He pointed at me. “Stay, Bonnie. I’m serious. If you want to stand by my side, you need to know when to buck and when to listen.”

So, I kept my seat while he inched himself into the hallway.

I abandoned my coffee and strained my ears to listen. I heard muffled voices down the hallway, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I felt like I recognized the other voice, though. I simply didn’t know from where.

Until Israel came back to the kitchen with his fucking brother.

“Giovanni,” I said as I stood.

Israel snapped. “Sit.”

My eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry, excuse me?”

Giovanni raised his hands in surrender. “You should sit for this.”

I slowly regained my seat. “What’s going on? Why do you look so angry, Israel?”

He sat down in front of me, and his eyes never once left my face.

“Let her hear it,” he said.

I paused. “Hear what?”

Giovanni placed a recording device onto the table and pressed a small green button. And when my voice filled the space between us, my eyes widened.

---