Page 51 of Born into Mayhem
She turns to look at me. “If you ever call me your sweet wife again, I’m going to punch you.”
I smile and tap the tip of her nose, which causes her to narrow her eyes at me.
“What do you want me to call you?” I ask.
“Mia would work.”
I tap her nose again, and this time her nostrils flare and her mouth tightens in a hard line.
“That’s not intimate enough,” I tell her. “And I already call you Mia.Streghetta mia. La mia piccola vipera.” I whisper the words against her skin, smiling when I hear her suck in a sharp breath. “Miameansmyin Italian, sweetheart. Fitting, no?”
“No,” she says, easily pulling a smile from me, a feat that no one else can do on such a regular basis. “It’s not fitting at all, because I’m not yours, Dario. I don’t belong to anyone.”
“You belong to me.” I give her a quick kiss before she can yell at me and then point out the window. “You’re missing Italy.”
Distracted, she turns her head and looks out the window. As we grow closer, the landscape comes into sharper view. She can pretend to hate this plan, and she can try and fight how she feels about me, but there’s no way to be indifferent about my home country. Italy is gorgeous, and no one can remain immune to her charms.
While she sits entranced by the view, I reach down and buckle her in so she’s ready for the landing. Instead of the slight trepidation I usually feel when the seat belt light comes on and we start to descend, I feel at ease as I watch Mia’s eyes light up when Italy becomes more visible with each passing minute. I barely notice the slight turbulence or the way my stomach drops when the wheels hit the ground before barreling down the runway that always seems like it might end up being a bit too short.
Once the plane has stopped, she turns her bright eyes to me, too excited to remember she’s trying to be pissed at me. Her smile is easy to return, and as soon as it’s safe to do so, we stand to exit. Sandro walks over to discuss our plans while Mia walks over to her brother and squeezes his arm in excitement. He grins down at her, showing a side of himself that very few people get a glimpse of. Mia’s always been an exception for him. I’m not sure what exactly he feels, but whatever good he’s capable of feeling is mainly reserved for her.
“We have a meeting scheduled with Giuseppe this afternoon,”Sandro announces while I grab my bag. “Dominic is already demanding hourly updates.”
I look at the phone he’s still gripping onto. “Well, since you’re already in touch with him, those updates should probably keep coming from you.”
“You’re not leaving me to do everything while you try to woo your wife.”
“I’ve been covering your ass since we were kids. You owe me, and I’m not trying to woo my wife.” I glance at Mia, checking to make sure she doesn’t try to leave without me. “I will win her over. She’s being stubborn, but she can’t fight me forever.”
“That’s so romantic,” Sandro says while he grabs a bag from the overhead compartment. “You’re going to need to step up your game if stubborn determination is all you’ve got. She’s eighteen, Dario. You’re not going to outlast her.”
The look I give him only makes him laugh.
“Don’t pout,” he tells me, and I swear to god if he wasn’t my brother I’d already have my knife in him.
“I’m leaving,” I say. “I don’t trust myself to not stab you right now.”
He laughs while I walk over to Mia. “Time to go,streghetta mia.” Wrapping my free arm around her, I lead her to the stairs.
“What about my brother?” She tries to look around me to see him, but I don’t move.
Instead, I nudge her to keep going while I say, “They’re riding with our men.”
She grips the railing, locking herself in place as she looks up at me. “And where am I going?”
I nod towards the gorgeous Ferrari Roma that’s parked on the tarmac, ready and waiting for us.
Looking back at her, I say, “With me.”
Chapter 10
Mia
Itry not to show how unbelievably sexy I think Dario is while he’s driving this beautiful car. He handles it just as skillfully as he does his bike, and no matter how curvy the road or how much that speedometer keeps creeping up, I’m not worried that he’s going to lose control. The red leather interior feels downright decadent beneath my ass, and I feel like I’m breaking some deep-rooted Italian law by sitting on it in nothing but my old jeans and T-shirt.
My eyes widen when we go through a tunnel that’s carved into the cliff, and when we emerge, the bright sun hits us again, and I get my first look at the Ionian Sea. It’s gorgeous, the kind of beauty that you have to experience in person because a photo could never fully capture it.
“You like it?” Dario asks, darting his eyes from the road just long enough to see my reaction.
