Page 90 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
I’m not sure if I’m ready to fit a relationship into that.
I drift off, and wake what feels like a few moments later, warm sunlight filling the room. I blink as I watch Dario walk out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Morning, beautiful.” He smiles. “Any regrets?”
I take a moment to look at him, water dripping down his sculpted body, his expression showing his usual confident self… with a hint of uncertainty. In the end, I’m honest.
“Nope.” I hop out of bed. “Which either means we’ve got chemistry for days, or I’m completely off the reservation.”
He winks. “A mixture, maybe?”
“It’s a good thing you like it when I get crazy, then,” I tell him.
He laughs. For a moment, everything feels easy and carefree. Then there’s a knock at the door.
“Yeah?” he says.
“It’s Nico–your father wants to see you.”
Dario sighs. “Okay, then.” He gestures at me. “You need to get dressed, Siena.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“Until I know where Rocco is–if he left the island, if he’s hiding somewhere–you’re coming everywhere with me. I don’t want to go allMr. Mafiaabout it, but you can either come voluntarily…”
“Easy, tiger,” I say, standing up. “We’re not at the kidnapping stage yet.”
He arches his eyebrow as if asking what stage we’re at. I pretend not to notice the subtlety of his expression.
“Have I got time for a quick shower?”
“Only if you let me join you.”
“I said aquickshower. You’ll get carried away.”
“How do you know?”
I gesture to his towel, his manhood already tenting the material, showing how badly he wants me.
“Fair point,” he says.
After a shower, I return to the bedroom to see that Dario has gone to my room and gotten me some clean clothes. Dario isn’t in the bedroom. I get dressed and tie my hair up, then walk onto the pier, the morning sunlight burning hotly down.
“I thought it’d be better if I waited out here while you got ready,” he says with a knowing look.
He’s wearing a cream-colored shirt open at the collar, khaki shorts, and slip-on shoes. Handsome as always.
He offers his hand. “Shall we?”
I debate taking it. In the stark light of day, it feels somehow more meaningful. Finally, I link hands with him, and it feels natural. Like everything with us has from the start.
With Nico trailing behind us, we walk down the pier to his parents’ hut. Vittorio and Marcela are sitting on their balcony. Marcela’s face lights up when she sees me holding hands with her son.
Vittorio is wearing fresh clothes, and he’s clearly showered, but his eyes are bloodshot and there are bags under them.
“Please sit,” Marcela says, gesturing to the table.
We all sit, then Edoardo walks out of the hut, hesitating when he spots me. He walks around the table, taking the seat next to his brother.
