Page 99 of Broken Mafia Prince
“I’ll pass,” I say kindly. “I’ll take a shower later.”
“Hmm,” he hums noncommittally, crossing the room to the bar positioned at one corner of the wall. There, he pulls out a bottle of red wine, grabs two glasses, and walks back to where I’m seated.
There’s a split second where I want to reject the wine, but the feeling passes quickly. I snatch the glass from his hand and hold it out for him to fill it.
“All the way to the top, please,” I say when he only tops it halfway. Right now, what I need is a full bottle of wine and to be left alone.
Unfortunately for me, though, I can’t drink with Alessandro, and it doesn’t have anything to do with me not feeling safe around him. I doubt a man like him will ever ruin his reputation because of a woman. Unlike my asshole ex, may his soul not find any rest, Alessandra worked for everything he owns, and there’s no way he’ll do something so careless to toss it into the mud.
The main reason I don’t want to get drunk with him is because I have no assurance that I won’t start waxing poetic about Raffaele. The last time I was drunk, I nearly called him. In fact, if my phone hadn’t fallen to the ground and broken while I was trying to fish it out of my purse, who knows the kind of pathetic nonsense I’d have said.
So I sip my drink like an obedient girl and wait for him to get bored and walk away.
“Do you need a massage?” Alessandro asks with a small smile. Something pangs in my chest. The guilt has become a familiar part of me.
Why can’t I forget all about Raffaele and enjoy a man like this? A man my father approves of. A life with him would be uneventful, which is exactly what I’ve told myself for years. And yet I find myself craving the complete opposite.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m beginning to think that I don’t even know what I truly want. I’ve always thought of myself as sure and decisive, until now. Now, I’m not so sure what I am.
“Did you make the guest list?” he asks, jolting me back into the present.
My eyebrows draw together, and I stare at his profile, taking in his dark brown eyes and all the sharp planes of his face. Do I want to see this face for the rest of my life, all in the name ofduty? But then again, duty isn’t the only thing that pushed me into his arms.
It’s knowing that I’ve found the perfect love. The kind that’s written about in books and poetry. I’ve had it, and it ripped me to shreds. Eager to push Raffaele out of my head once and for all, I hadn’t argued all that much.
“Giulia,” he calls again, bringing me back to the present. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve barely touched your wine, and I asked you about the guest list for the engagement party, and you’re looking at me like it’s the first time you’re hearing about it.”
I drag my fingers through my hair, chuckling. “I’m sorry. I’m just kind of a mess right now. Can we postpone the engagement conversation? I’m exhausted, and I need some air.”
With that, I stand up from the couch. The glass of wine hangs limp from my hand as I walk to the glass sliding doors leading out to the balcony. The penthouse apartment is one of the highest points in the city, and from here, I can see almost the entire upper side stretched out like a field of lights.
I sip my drink while trying not to think about him. I’m not surprised when I fail miserably. It’s been two years, for god’s sake, when is it supposed to get easier? When will I be able to think about my past without feeling like a chunk of me is missing?
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear Alessandro coming until his hand is around my waist and his mouth is on my neck. I tense for a moment before carefully listening to my muscles, one at a time.
“You should wear a skirt more often.” He reaches down and grabs one of my ass cheeks in the form-fitting cream skirt I have on.
Ale turns me around until I’m facing him, and then his mouth is on mine. My stupid brain decides to supply me with amemory of my first kiss with Raffaele. I still remember how his mouth had slanted over mine and how I’d melted into the kiss like I’d been waiting my whole life for it. This feels nothing like that. There’s no urgency, no burning need, nothing.
Frustration and disappointment fill me just like every other time he’s touched me. Following closely behind is self-loathing for my disappointment. I push Raffaele out of my thoughts and wrap my arms around my soon-to-be fiancé’s neck, kissing him back with all the enthusiasm I can muster, which isn’t much.
“We should stop,” I whisper, feeling his erection stabbing against my belly.
“Don’t you want this?” he asks, tongue swirling around the shell of my ear.
“Have I told you lately that you’re fucking sexy, baby?” His dark eyes drag down my body appreciatively, flaring with desire. “I’m the luckiest man in the world right now. And soon, I won’t just have your body—you’ll wear my ring on your finger, and you’ll be mine.”
“I can’t wait.” It’s the truth, even if it’s not the whole truth. My reasons for wanting to get on with the engagement and wedding are purely selfish. I need to get over Raffaele urgently, and what better way than another man’s ring on my finger, reminding me that there’s only one man I should have space for in my head?
He bends his head and takes my mouth in his again, his hands already on a mission. I dig my fingers into his mass of curls, halting him from going any further. He stares up at me with confusion written all over his expression.
“I want you so bad, Ale,” I pant. “Why don’t we skip that part?”
“We always skip that part,” he points out. “I’ve missed your taste in my mouth.”
The two times I let Alessandro go down on me, I’d had to use all my acting skills to get through that experience. I’m not the least bit interested in that again. Or maybe I’m just spoiled after having Raffaele eat me out like I was his last meal. In more ways than one, he’s ruined me for other men without even knowing it.
“And I promise we’ll get to that part soon. I just need more time. Besides, why rush it? We’ll be together forever soon. I want it to be special.”
