Page 17 of Mafia Men Need Love Too
The bird finally hopped over to her shoulder. Apparently, it felt as sorry as he did for River’s appalling lack of orgasms.
“You shouldn’t have to miss them,” he said quietly.
After a moment, she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “I don’t know why I told you any of that. My point was just that being loyal wouldn’t be a problem for me. There’s not a lot of sex available to me.”
He couldn’t stop himself from brushing his knuckles over her smooth cheek. “From now on, you’ll have as many orgasms as you want. I’ll make damn sure of that.”
Chapter 10
For once in her life, River’s mind was completely quiet…except for Nico’s offer.
As many orgasms as you want.
That was three hours ago. Her only response had been a stuttered statement that she’d put some thought into what she wanted from him and their marriage. He’d told her that was fine. Then he’d shown her to her room.
Much like the rest of the house, the bedroom she’d been given was so perfect, River hated the thought of touching any of it.
She could imagine that in the daytime, creamy sunlight would pour in through the tall windows, glint off the warm, honeyed tones of the wood-paneled ceiling, and bounce off the sprawling bed that looked comfier than royalty was probably accustomed.
There were deep, golden accents everywhere—from the textured blanket on the king-sized bed to the gleaming starburst chandelier overhead—making it impossible not to feel both pampered and wildly out of place, as if she was squatting in a luxury hotel suite.
Each thoughtful detail screamed wealth and taste: tasseled pillows stacked just so, potted succulents and fresh greenery tucked into golden planters, and artfully mismatched textiles. Even the air felt richer here. Cleaner somehow.
It was a very far cry from her dingy little ground-level apartment on the west side of town, with its asbestos ceiling tiles and thrift store furnishings.
But she wasn’t thinking about her plush surroundings. No. Not when so much of her focus was being spent on Nico’s offer.
So, while she was settling Feather in her cage, she thought about Nico making her come. When she was washing her face and changing into an oversized t-shirt and boy shorts, she thought about Nico making her come.
And now, while she was tucked into the most comfortable bed she’d ever felt, sprawled on zillion-thread-count sheets, staring at the ceiling while Feather made sweet little cooing noises in her sleep, River was wide awake, still thinking about Nico making her come.
And he was only one bedroom, one door, away.
This was not what she should be thinking about. Her entire life had been uprooted. She’d been threatened with sex trafficking and forced into an arranged marriage—or a marriage of convenience or whatever—to a stranger. She should be trying to figure a way out of this disaster, not fantasizing about a mafia boss making her come.
No matter how sexy he was.
And damn it, he was sexy.
Was his over-the-top sex appeal (and the promise of many screaming orgasms) the reason she wasn’t more concerned about being forced to marry a stranger? Maybe. But she was afraid it was a little more pathetic than that.
The fact was that her life wasn’t especially great these days. Sure, her job paid the bills, and she enjoyed having summers off (like now). But if she was being honest, she didn’t love it. Hell, she didn’t even really like kids that much. They were whiny and germy and always sticky for some reason. Being around them all day was taxing.
And while she adored Feather, she did still get lonely from time to time. Not enough to sign up on dating apps. She shuddered at the thought of going out after work willingly and talking to strange men. But still…it’d be nice to have someone to come home to and watch TV with.
So, the idea of marrying a crazy-hot man who promised her orgasms and looked to have more money than the Catholic church and all the Kardashians combined seemed like a drastic improvement to her circumstances.
But marrying the head of the mafia made her feel…something she wasn’t ready to name just yet.
What she did know was that letting herself get sucked in by yet another handsome man would be an epic mistake—one she couldn’t afford to make.
For now, maybe the smart thing to do would be to play along. Do as she was told. Avoid making waves while she figured out a way to save herself from this situation.
Because if her life up until this point had taught her anything, it was that knights in shining armor only existed in fairy tales, and she was no princess.
Somehow, the sidekick of the story was going to have to figure out how to save herself.
On a good day, Nico functioned on two or three hours of sleep, a general disdain for the human population, and enough caffeine to single-handedly support the Colombian economy.
