Page 118 of Dirty Mafia Torment
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I chant.
I’ll be bruised and sore. Lord, I might be unable to walk.
“You okay?” he demands after a while.
I smile against his neck.
He tenses and jerks me back so he can look at me.
I want to joke and make light of what we’ve just done.
Instead, I answer truthfully. “Never been better.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
FINA
The sun welcomesa new day by the time I gingerly exit the barn. I can’t believe I slept with him. Inside an old barn, nestled on a hay mattress, his body half on me, half off, his arm flung across my chest.
Everything aches.
My heart most of all.
I didn’t enter the danger zone. I kicked the door down.
I sigh. Casual sex and I don’t seem to be vibing.
And … I feel guilty. Because I lost the damn keys. I thought I’d release him so we could shower in the house, but the keys aren’t inside my bag. I couldn’t tell him his stay at the farm is indefinite now, until I get a replacement. How does someone even explain to a locksmith they’ve a man shackled inside a barn? Who reeks of sex and sin? Who has a just-been-fucked aura about him?
I’ll open the barn windows to air the place out, and instruct him to behave. Play dumb to the locksmith and pretend I’ve no clue how Renzo got himself in this predicament.
I’m halfway across the driveway when my phone rings. My stomach drops as I release the hay bale and dig inside my purse for my phone. Panicked that something’s wrong if my aunt’s calling me this early.
When I look at my phone, I realize I’m being FaceTimed … by Sebastiano Beneventi.
No. No. No.
Damn you, Dante—he must have shared my number.
I tug my torn dress tighter. What do I do?
The phone buzzes again, almost angrily.
Exactly as I picture the man at the other end.
I make the sign of the cross, smooth back my untamed hair, and answer the FaceTime call. Don Beneventi fills the screen, and a gasp escapes me. Eyes hard and lips tight, power radiates off him like a bull ready to charge. The man is just as terrifying on the phone as he is in person.
“Renzo still with you?”
I bite my lip, dumbstruck by his call, though that’s not why I hesitate. I feelprotectiveof the man chained inside my barn.
“Elia. Is my goddamn son with you?”
“Yes.”
The muscles in his jaw jump as he clenches his teeth.
“He’s okay. Better than okay,” I reassure him. Because something’s wrong, it’s written all over his expression.
