Page 36 of Marrying the Mobster
The constant smiling and playacting have me exhausted and looking forward to sleeping in on the first Saturday without plans in weeks. That idea is dashed to pieces when Diego parts the curtains at eight in the morning, casually dressed in tan dress pants and a white button-up.
“Rise and shine,gatita. We’re having company this afternoon.”
With a groan, I yank the blankets over my head to block out the light. “It’s Saturday.”
“It is,” he agrees. “And the weather’s perfect for a barbecue out by the pool.”
I peek one eye from behind my blanket and find him standing over me, looking amused.
“Don’t you ever wear jeans?” I grumble.
“Rarely, but not today. This party isn’t for pleasure … it’s business.”
Throwing the blanket aside, I sit up and rub my eyes. “Oleg and Galina?”
“The entire family,” Diego corrects. “And a few of thebratva.”
He offers me his hand and pulls me from the bed. I’m caught in that simmering, dark gaze again, too vulnerable in my state of half-wakefulness to resist noticing how good he smells. He didn’t shave this morning, and the dark stubble makes him look twice as sinister as usual.
“How much longer are we going to have to do this?” I ask, tearing my gaze away from him. Diego is at his most dangerous at times like this; when he’s in a good mood and giving off enough charm to make me forget who and what he is. I need the distraction of idle conversation.
“Not much longer,” he says, while I cross the room and reach for my thin, silk robe. “Oleg no longer doubts our relationship, and hasn’t tried pushing Nataly into my path in a while.”
“Will she be there today?” I ask, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. Nataly seems like a nice girl, but she’s as boring as white bread and her constant staring and fawning over Diego have gotten annoying.
Diego’s lips twitch with humor as he reaches out to pull me into him. His hands skim my waist, and his thumbs trace the undersides of my breasts. The intimacy of the act catches me off guard, and all I can do is stand there while he toys with me.
“Yes. We’ll be by the pool, so make sure to wear sunscreen … and something that will make her wish she could look as sexy in a bikini as you do.”
I can’t respond to that, because his thumbs move higher, stroking my nipples.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I manage, my breaths turning to short pants as he increases pressure, joining his index fingers with his thumbs to pinch. The sensation shoots straight down between my legs and makes my knees weak.
He chuckles and palms one of my breasts, giving it a light squeeze. “What does it look like? I’m admiring what’s mine. Do you want me to stop?”
“If you want me dressed and ready to perform by lunchtime, you’re going to have to.”
Diego lets out an irritated huff but drops his hands. “Fine. But I’m not finished with you. If you’re a good girl today, I’ll pick up where I left off later.”
Oh fuck. A shiver shoots through me at the heavy promise in his words. I’ve been on fire for weeks. At this point, I’m ready to get this over with for the sake of my raging hormones as well as executing my plan to wrap Diego around my finger. The way he’s looking at me—like he’s two seconds away from mounting me—I realize I might be closer to that goal than I thought.
“Hmm,” I murmur, turning away to head for the bathroom. “Maybe I’ll allow that … but only ifyouare a goodboy.”
“That fucking mouth,” he grumbles just before I close and lock the bathroom door, leaving him on the other side.
With a hand over my lips to muffle my giggles, I turn on the shower. Knowing I’ll have to spend my day entertaining Oleg and his family doesn’t make me excited to leave this room, but I can’t deny being happy at the thought of a swim. Diego has turned me into a well-trained puppy, ready to perform on command for treats. If it gets me closer to freedom, I won’t fight it … for the time being.
I take my time getting ready for the party, going to the dining room for breakfast with Marcella before returning to my room to change. Music blares through the house’s speaker system, growing louder once I make my way downstairs. The glass doors are open to the patio, and the smells off the grill flood my senses. Marcella, Jovan, and a handful of others are already in the pool, while a group of Diego’s men stand clustered around the outdoor bar—where a pretty woman in a white bikini hands out beers and mixes drinks. There are more women here than I’ve ever seen on the premises before, and after a few minutes of observation I realize these are the wives and girlfriends of Diego’s men. They seem comfortable with each other, talking and laughing—a few crowded around a massive wooden table, where they work to spread out the side dishes and condiments.
The laughter of children draws my attention to the little ones playing soccer near the fence for the first time. It never occurred to me that such a scene would be possible in a place like this, and around men like these. The same men who guard the house to keep me from escaping, who stood by with guns drawn to take me down when I threatened Diego, who come and go from this house at all hours to do the bidding of their boss. They’re husbands, lovers, and fathers today, wearing shorts and t-shirts that flaunt their tattoos and smiling as if the world outside the fence doesn’t live in terror of their very existence.
I spot Diego near the pool, with a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes and his shirt half-unbuttoned as he reclines in one of the loungers. He couldn’t be more different from the others, as if his status places him in a league of his own. I wonder if he feels he can’t be like them because he has to exude dominance and dignity, or if he’s always been so serious and buttoned-up.
“It doesn’t matter, you idiot,” I whisper to myself. Stupid thoughts like those will get me in trouble. I can’t afford to start seeing Diego as a human being with feelings and emotions and a past. He’s a monster with no soul, no humanity. If I can maintain that image of him, I can beat him at our game. I can free myself.
With that in mind, I make my way toward him, allowing my thin cover-up to fall open. I don’t need to see his eyes to know he’s looking me over. I went out of my way to put on the smallest, sexiest bathing suit I own. After all, I’m only doing what I was told. The turquoise color looks great against my skin, and the triangular cups of the top reveal more than they cover. It’s the bottoms that are sure to hold his attention for the entire afternoon—a high-cut thong. I’ve never worn it outside the privacy of the pool at my father’s house, but if there was ever a time for me to be more daring, this is it. For now, the cover-up keeps my ass out of full view, but I’m prepared to present myself to Diego like a juicy steak on a platter.
“Do you approve?” I tease, giving a little twirl and then strike a pose.
