Page 27 of Reign Of Triumph
I didn’t make the call to Serafina, and she hasn’t tried to contact me. As I pull into the driveway, my man at the gate lets me in with a two-finger salute. I watch in my rearview mirror and see that he shuts the gate immediately after I pass through. Those were my orders, and I’m glad to see he’s taking his job seriously.
Giusto’s threat could have been that of a man hoping to rattle me, or he may have preempted his failure and had a plan in place to make my life hell. Either way, I’m prioritizing the safety of Serafina and her family.
The house is quiet as I walk through the front door and down the hall. As I near the kitchen, I hear Serafina humming to herself. I hang back and watch her walk from the kitchen to the dining room, back and forth several times, carrying dishes and cutlery. She’s so busy with her task that she doesn’t notice me at all.
Alessandro is watching over Serafina and the grounds today. Since the first time I met Alessandro, I liked his honesty. From that moment on, he’s worked harder than any other man to prove his loyalty and has taken young Cassio under his wing. He’s doing his rounds now and comes over to where I’m standing.
“She does this every evening. She sets the table for dinner. Then you call, and she takes it all away again. I asked her once why she doesn’t wait for you to come home, and she said, ‘Eros has been working all day. I want to have a nice meal ready for him when he gets in,’” he says with a grin. “She’s a good woman. Mrs. Palloma is nice to all the men. She makes extra cookies when she bakes for her nieces and makes me hand them out to the guys.”
I chuckle. “That sounds about right.”
“She’ll be happy you’re home,” he comments. “I’ll head over to the security room for the night.”
“Thanks, Alessandro.”
Serafina returns to the kitchen, and I follow her in. I look around and see that she spends a great deal of time in this room. The aroma of fresh bread wafts through the air. She’s bent over, pulling a roasting pan out of the oven, and the scent of braised lamb chops with rosemary and garlic makes my mouth water.
I know my wife is an excellent cook, because even when they’re reheated, I devour her meals. What I didn’t know was the time, thought, and effort she put into taking care of me. She shuts the oven door and turns to look at her phone, gives a little sigh, and puts it back down.
“Hi, honey, I’m home,” I say with a humorous lilt in my tone. Serafina whips around and sees me standing in the doorway. Her smile is radiant.
“You made it home for dinner,” she says. Then she quickly looks down at her shorts and T-shirt, a hand moving to her hair, which is piled up in a messy bun, and gasps. “I’ll just go change quickly, and dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” She scurries to run past me, but I block her path. Serafina tilts her head back to look at me.
“When a husband comes home from work, I think a hello kiss is in order. Don’t you?” I ask with amusement.
Serafina reaches up on her tiptoes, her arms shyly coming around my neck, then puts her lips on mine in a sweet, soft kiss. I band my arm around her waist, molding our bodies together from chest to thigh, one of my hands on her curved, firm ass pressing her closer. Immediately, she opens for me as I plunder her mouth.
I heft her up, sitting her atop the counter, then stand between her thighs. Her eyes are glassy with desire, her taut nipples showing through her thin cotton tee, and her face is flushed. She’s even more beautiful dressed in shorts and flip-flops than in one of her dresses.
Serafina does this ritual every evening for me. She works in the kitchen all afternoon to make me dinner, then makes herself up so that when I come home, I find my perfect little wife. This can mean one of two things. One, she either truly enjoys spending all this time being a happy homemaker, or two, she’s afraid of disappointing me.
If it’s the second reason, then we need to have a talk. I didn’t marry a Stepford wife, nor do I want Serafina to become one. She has already taken on the burden of looking after her mother and assisting her sister-in-law and nieces. I want a partner, not a slave.
I can see where Serafina got these ideas. Most men in the Mafia hold traditional roles. Her father was a traditionalist. He liked his wife at home, catering to his every need. No judgment: that worked for them. My own parents are traditional as well, but Mom has her set days for lunch with the ladies and volunteering that make her happy. My father wants this for her. But Serafina and me, we need to find our own groove.
“I like you dressed like this,” I tell her. She looks down at her clothes, then touches her hair. “You’re adorable.”
Serafina gives me a shy grin. “Thank you, but I’d look silly sitting in the dining room in shorts when you’re wearing a suit.”
I take off my jacket and toss it over a chair. I never bother with a tie unless I’m meeting with Marco or in a business meeting, but I undo another button of my shirt and roll up my sleeves. “Better?” I tease. Her giggle fills the room, and I swear, I’ve never heard anything more precious. When I hear her laugh, it’s like a special gift, because it’s genuine. Making Serafina laugh is more satisfying than closing a million-dollar deal.
I feel the urge to take her upstairs, strip her naked, and fuck her senseless. However, considering the effort she put into this meal, and the heavenly scent of food that makes my stomach rumble, I decide I’ll have Serafina for dessert. I plant a fast, hard kiss on her lips.
“Feed me,” I tell her, and guide her down from the counter. “What can I do to help?” I ask. She looks at me like I have two heads. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.” She laughs loud and hard, taking me along for the ride.
Yes, she is my reward. She is the one pure heart who understands my dark soul.
Dinner is fantastic. The dining room was set as if she were hosting an elaborate dinner party, complete with candles, flowers, and all the trimmings. She sits next to me, daintily cutting into her lamb chop, then taking a bite, and all I can think about is throwing everything off the table like a caveman and fucking her on it.
I can’t get enough of my wife. I’m always calm, cool, and controlled, but around my sweet siren, I’m a raging bull waiting to be let out of the stall.
“Did you like the lamb?” she asks with a lopsided grin, looking at my plate, which is empty except for the bones. I had two helpings of everything. I devoured my food. Not that I would ever tell my mother, but Serafina is a better cook than even she is.
I like that she’s comfortable kidding with me. Throughout dinner, she asks me about my day. I tell her what I can, without mentioning that I collected on some past-due loans by force. Unfortunately, the businessman in question seems to think that he can jerk me around as he did the previous underboss. It seems that Giusto had a “friendly” relationship with this guy, and Giusto let a lot of things slide. Giusto made up the difference on the books by cutting corners at the warehouse. This is why many of our dealers are doing business with the Russians.
“What did you do today?” I ask.
“Bianca is having trouble getting the girls to school in the morning. It seems that rumors are going around. Parents don’t want their children playing with the girls, and Anita and Alia don’t understand what’s happening. I think they should move to a different school. Bianca is beside herself with worry,” Serafina says, her brow furrowed with concern for her nieces.
