Page 38 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
Most are positioned outside, but there are a few in the common areas inside too. I’ve had the system for years and rarely bothered with it. Now that Mia lives here, the security app is the most frequently used thing on my phone.
I could lie to myself and say I’m just making sure she’s safe, but I have complete faith in my men. The truth is, I watch those cameras because it feeds my growing obsession with my wife.
It’s completely unhinged, and I don’t give a damn.
Friday afternoon finds me sitting in my office at the hotel, the legitimate face of my empire. I work out of here most days since it helps maintain the illusion that I’m just another successful businessman instead of the head of a criminal organization.
There’s plenty of business I should be handling, but instead, I’m pulling out my phone like a lovesick teenager. The security app opens to a grid of little squares, each showing a live feed from one of my cameras.
It takes me all of two seconds to find her.
Backyard camera, angled toward the pool. I tap the feed and my screen fills with the view of our patio; the pergola, the outdoor kitchen where we grilled steaks last night, and the pool where my woman is walking along the edge in a white bikini that should be illegal in all fifty states.
When I had the boutique send over a complete wardrobe for Mia, I kept my requests minimal. I don’t know shit about women’s fashion. The only specific thing I asked for was some band t-shirts. Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin, a few others I’d seen her wearing during my...research.
I didn’t think to request swimwear, but I’m sending that personal shopper the biggest fucking bonus of her life. Two triangles of white fabric barely contain Mia’s full breasts, held in place by strings tied at her neck and back. It would take me all of three seconds to untie those knots and watch the top fall away.
My cock turns to steel at the thought, and I have to adjust myself in my chair.
Mia stops at the pool’s edge and dips her toes in, testing the temperature. She grins—that bright smile that makes her dimple appear and short-circuits my thoughts—then takes a few steps back.
She runs toward the edge with a joyful shriek, launching herself into a perfect cannonball that sends water splashing everywhere.
Christ, I wish I was there.
I’ve always known Mia was beautiful. Anyone with eyes can see that. She’s a bombshell with that radiant smile, a body that could stop traffic, and smooth light brown skin that the white bikini showcases to perfection. Her black hair is piled on top of her head in a messy knot that makes me want to pull it down and run my fingers through it.
Yeah, she’s hot as hell, and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to have her every night.
But over the last five days, I’ve discovered I’m just as drawn to her personality. Being around her is like mainlining pure energy. She makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t since...fuck, maybe ever. If I were home right now, she’d probably talk me into jumping in that pool with her, clothes and all, even though it’s something I never would have considered doing before her.
Making her happy has become an addiction. I can’t get enough of watching her face light up.
I shake my head at myself. No one would believe that the Don of the Andretti empire is completely whipped by a twenty-six-year-old woman he officially met a week ago. Turns out there’s been a sentimental fool hiding under all my layers of ruthlessness.
She’s doing laps now, her strokes clean and efficient. I consider unzipping my pants, stroking myself while I watch her move through the water. There’s something about observing her without her knowledge that gets me going every single time.
It’s twisted, sure. But she’smine, so I figure that gives me the right.
Even if she won’t fully admit it yet.
She’s still wary because of how we started, but I’m wearing down her defenses. Soon she’ll fall for me completely, I can feel it.
I glance toward my office door. Not locked, and while most people know to knock, there are a few who have carte blanche to walk in. Probably not the best time to have my dick out.
I close the app and pocket my phone. Good thing too, because a minute later my door opens and Dario steps inside.
The scowl on his face kills any lingering thoughts of my wife in that bikini.
He closes the door behind him, which tells me this is serious business.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice gone hard.
“We found what’s left of Will.”
Just like that, my good mood evaporates completely. Over the last five days, I kept receiving pieces of Will—another hand, both feet, an arm. Each delivery came to one of my businesses instead of the house, thank fuck. I didn’t want Mia seeing that shit.
The cameras caught a few of the drop-offs, but the courier always wore dark clothes and a balaclava to hide their face. Didn’t matter, since I already knew who was behind it.
