Page 71 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
I say it jokingly, but the sight of his muscles bulging in that tuxedo jacket is no laughing matter.
“Are you going to send that one?” he asks, chuckling.
“Yep.”
My mother replies almost straightaway.
“She says it looks amazing… and yep, she’s proud. She also asked, who is the douche flexing?”
“Really?” He laughs, not offended at all.
“No,” I admit. “She actually asked if I’m having a holiday fling with you.”
He looks even more pleased now. “You serious?”
I show him the screen.
“There it is, in black and white. Now wehaveto do something.”
I laugh even more, my headache fading. Maybe I could actually enjoy this party after all. “I don’t let my mother choose who I sleep with.”
“Why not? She’s clearly got excellent taste.”
“You’re just incapable of being serious, aren’t you?”
“I’m addicted to more than your body, Siena. Your laugh is like a drug.”
I mime puking.
“That–here? I’m not sure the other guests would appreciate it.”
It takes me a moment to get what he’s hinting at. “Ha, ha, no–not that.”
“Whatever you say, beautiful. It looked like you wanted to give me a blowjob right…”
“What’s this about blowjobs?” Marcela says, appearing as if by magic.
My cheeks flame red. Dario stares at me with wide eyes.
“Tell me this isn’t happening, Siena.”
“I’msureI heard something about blowjobs…” Marcela chuckles
“I think it’s happening,” I say, unable to hold back my laughter.
“I’ve always loved embarrassing him,” Marcela says, winking at me.
The music changes, with a slow number replacing a fast track. Marcela grins at her son. “If you want an opportunity to flee this conversation, this music makes the perfect excuse.”
Dario offers me his hand. “Siena, dance with me. Or we can stay here and talk to my mother about…”
I don’t hesitate to make an escape. “Let’s dance.”
He holds my hand in full view of everyone. I don’t look around as he leads me to the center of the dance floor. I don’t want to see the judgment, if there is any, and I don’t want to think either. Maybe it’s bad with so much still in the air, but it’s easy to press myself against him as soft violin music plays, other couples weaving together slowly.
I wrap my arms around him and hold tight, feeling safe as we rock together. When he kisses me on the forehead, a soft spot of warmth, it feels natural, like maybe it could work out.
“This must be what it feels like to be part of a couple,” he says warmly.
