Page 17 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
I want Mia to accept me as her husband.
And I always get what I want.
7
MIA
Okay,Lorenzo was right about one thing. I like the house.
Actually, I love it.
We park in a wide driveway, and I stare up at the three-story house with a combination of black siding and grey masonry. As we walk inside, clean lines and appealing openness pulls the tension out of my shoulders for the first time today.
Much of the first floor flows together like water—a large living room with black leather furniture that probably costs more than my annual salary, a kitchen with gleaming white cabinets and what looks like actual marble countertops, and a dining area surrounded by windows that frame the backyard like a painting.
There are two closed doors beyond the stairs, and Lorenzo points to them with casual ownership.
“That’s the bathroom and my office. There’s also a door in the kitchen that leads to the basement.”
“Is that where you torture traitors?” I blurt out, making a joke I immediately regret.
What if he says yes?
I cringe as I wait for his answer, mentally cursing my big mouth.
Lorenzo suddenly lets out a loud, booming laugh. It’s the first time I’ve heard it, and the sound hits me like a shot of tequila, warm and disorienting. His eyes crinkle at the corners, genuine and unguarded.
“No,dolcezza,” he says, still chuckling as he pulls me into his arms. “I don’t do anything like that here.”
But hedoesdo it. Somewhere. That should bother me more than it does, but listening to him talk about limits and boundaries makes me reluctant to pass judgment. Like there’s a method to his madness.
“The basement has a full gym. I work out down there.” He picks up my suitcase again, heading toward the stairs. “Come on, I’ll show you our room.”
I follow him up, holding back the urge to tell him it’s notourroom. That I won’t be staying.
The second floor has four bedrooms, and Lorenzo leads me past three until we reach the door at the end of the hallway. When he opens it, I step into a spacious bedroom that’s nearly as big as my entire apartment back in LA.
To the left, there’s a king-sized bed that looks like it could fit a small village. To the right, glass double doors lead to a balcony overlooking the backyard. There’s a little table with two chairs, and I can’t help imagining sitting out there with Lorenzo in the morning, drinking coffee and pretending this is all normal.
No. I don’t know him. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about domestic bliss with my accidental husband.
Lorenzo crosses to the bed and puts my suitcase on top of it. I try not to look directly at him, but that doesn’t stop my mind from wandering to all the things we could do on that massive bed. My thighs are still humming from the best sex I’ve ever had, and I can hardly believe I’m already thinking about round two.
This sexy older man has awakened a sex-crazed side of me that I never knew existed.
Would he take me again if I whipped off my shirt right now?
My mouth goes dry, and I can feel my pulse hammering in my neck. I really need to get myself under control. Thinking with my vagina won’t do me any good.
Lorenzo, completely oblivious to the direction of my thoughts, glances at his watch.
“I need to go make a few phone calls in my office downstairs. I’ll leave you to settle in.” He comes to stand in front of me and cups my cheek. “I know this must be overwhelming for you, but I can make you happy, Mia. Just give me a chance to show you.”
My god, I’m actually tempted. There’s something about Lorenzo that seems so sincere, and it calls to me like a siren song. He’s definitely keeping secrets, but I believe he’s been honest about the things he has told me. That should count for something, right?
But am I really willing to give up my life in LA for this man?
Maybe if we’d dated first. If I’d fallen for him the normal way. But just uprooting myself because he tricked a drunk woman into saying “I do”?
