Page 63 of Blind Devotion
My ears were ringing as I caught my breath. What the hell was that?
A fucking blowjob, an imaginary blowjob of all things, gave me the best orgasm of my life. The few I ever had were subpar at best. Too much touch. Too much intimacy, neither of which I dealt with well.
After tucking my cock back into my pants and cleaning my hands in the en suite bathroom, I collapsed in my office chair and swiveled side to side, flicking my pocketknife open and closed.
In many ways, Tessa remained a mystery. I still had no idea who she was or where she came from. Only one other person ever made me drop my guard like Tessa did. Maybe it was Tessa’s green eyes that made me think of Persetta Iannelli. Or maybe it was the similarities between their mannerisms and expressions. I squinted at nothing in particular, biting my inner lips. Or maybe I was seeing similarities where there were none. Persetta had no doubt changed quite a bit since I last saw her when she was fifteen, coddled in her family’s wealth, safe under her brother’s protection in San Francisco.
The conversation with Renzo Iannelli replayed in my head. I hadn’t given the discussion a second thought until now. Something about it wasn’t sitting quite right. There was an accusation there. More than three years after my last contact with Persy, Renzo’s vehemence had to be about more than a brother protecting his sister’s broken heart. Curiosity drummed in my chest.
Phone in hand, I dialed Franc, the family hacker and distant cousin on my father’s side.
“Boss,” the answering voice croaked with sleepiness. “It’s three a.m.”
“And?”
“Normal people sleep at this hour.”
“And?” I asked with a touch of menace.
Everyone knew they were on call at all hours. Those who couldn’t fit the lifestyle quit it. Those who quit it died for it. There weren’t any happy mediums.
There was some shuffling and rustling on the other side of the line. “Right. Of course, boss. Sorry. What do you need?”
“Get me information on Persetta Iannelli over the last six months. Go further if you have to.”
“The California mafia princess? How extensive we talking?”
“Everything. Every move she’s made, down to what she had for breakfast this morning.”
“You planning on rebrokering the marriage agreement?”
“Franc?”
“Yes, boss?”
“A piece of advice. Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I hung up and tossed my phone onto my desk, gazing at the leather button-back couch in the middle of my office space with disgust. I’d rather sleep in a chair, watching my vixen sleep.
Chapter 26
“Mammina,lookwhatAdriensent me.” I skipped through the dining hall.
Mammina sat at the piano like a queen, chest high, the curls of her dark hair spilling over her bare back, her dress bodice tight-fitted, and the A-line of the dress floating around her ankles. She glanced over her shoulder at me, a smile curving her lips. I loved how I looked more like her every day.
My excitement dimmed at the sight of the new dark-purple bruise peeking out from the neckline of her dress, and I stumbled a step.
“What is it? What did he get you,cuoricina mia?”
She liked to pretend she was clumsy. Babbo liked to pretend he loved us, but I heard the fights. I knew better than to step in. A broken wrist when I was eleven and a broken arm a couple of months later had taught me that. After that, Mammina made me swear not to again.
It had gotten better after Renzo negotiated for Babbo to keep his hands off her by dropping his cut fifty percent, but it stillhappened every so often. I hated it. I hated my father for doing it, and sometimes I hated Mammina for letting him.
I couldn’t look away from that bruise as I held up the gifts Adrien sent me for my thirteenth birthday. The first was the gold necklace already around my neck from Maison Chaumet, with a butterfly pendant shaped with diamonds. It gleamed in the sunlight, and the detail was so fine, it was probably the most beautiful thing I owned. I doubted I would ever take it off. I loved it so much.
The second was a red origami butterfly with flappable wings. I think I loved it even more than the necklace since I knew Adrien made it himself. He called me his butterfly, and now he’d gifted me two. But looking at my mother’s latest bruise, I wasn’t sure I could enjoy them as much as I wanted to.
“They are beautiful.” She caressed the back of her fingers against one of my cheeks. “What is wrong,carissima?”
