Page 21 of Bought By the Mafia

“Of course, of course. We should do this again sometime,” she said, “The coffee, that is. Not the accident.” Her mouth widened with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Guilt washed over me again and, feeling like I should atone for my wrong doing I asked, “We should trade numbers? You know, so we could stay in touch.”

She gave me another bright smile. “That would be great.”

I wanted to return her smile, but I couldn’t. Even as I took out my phone and gave her my number, an irrational part of me wanted to reverse the act. Because it felt like I had just made a mistake.

10

Five years ago

She was a dream. I could not believe that someone could be so beautiful both inside and outside. She was full of vigor and had an intellect that matched mine. A woman like her was a rare gem. We must have been on the beach for hours. I was so rapt in our conversation; I failed to notice the sun descending, and it was only after she mentioned it was getting dark that I looked around us and noticed we were the only ones left.

I had approached her merely as a beauty to be conquered. A woman to keep my bed warm for a night or two while I was in Greece. She had all the right attributes. A girl looking for fun, a body made for sin and tits to drown in. And yet I wanted more. I wanted her to be more than a fling, and that was only after talking to her for a few hours. In that short time, I had learned a lot about her. She was on the island with friends. They were celebrating graduation and were hoping to enter the fashion industry soon after. During our conversation, she had let it slip that her family was in the ‘business’. I’m not sure she noticed she did, but I was accustomed to taking hints from people’s conversation and putting two and two together when it came to the mafia world. She had said her name was Simona Vannucci, and she was originally from Italy but where most of her family still was, but she grew up in the United States with her mother. That was a big hint. I knew of a Vannucci Mafia Family headed by a man in Tuscany. He had sons. I didn’t know he had a daughter, though the surname, a somewhat common one, could have been a coincidence. The hint that sealed it was when she said her father was in the import-export business. That was enough for me. Vannucci was a known arms dealer and no one who was legally importing and exporting things called it the ‘import/export business’.

One of my rules was not dating anyone connected to that side of the business and instead of dropping her and moving on, I was tempted to break my rule. It’s not like she was in the business, just tangentially tied to it.

“Do you care to join me for dinner?” I said as we got up. “I don’t want to intrude on what you and your friends will do, of course.”

“Oh, don’t worry about them.” She rolled her eyes and puffed her chest in a sexy way that tightened my groin even more. “They’ll want to take me clubbing. Rubbing against strangers’ bodies while dangling a drink in hand doesn’t feel like how I want to spend my night today.”

My heart leaped at the prospect of spending more time with her. A few hours hadn’t been enough. “So it’s a date, then?” I tried to keep my voice even and not come off as over eager.

“Is it?”

Fuck. Was I over eager? “If you want it to be.”

“I’m in room eighty-nine,” she said with a sweet smile and got up. She walked away as the sun set, her skin glowing in the waning light. I didn’t know it, but I was well and truly fucked.

Now.

The ballroom, while large and barely full, was suffocating. I could not stand the dozens of colognes and perfume filling my nostrils more than I could stand the constant ass kissing from men who wanted to move up the ranks. The women were no better. They could see I came with someone and many knew she was my wife and yet they could not stop eying me. Even Simona noticed and gave me a look of disdain, as if I was the one encouraging it. I didn’t want to be here. My night would have been better if I were in my bedroom with Simona under me. Or anywhere really, as long as I was deep inside her.

I finished the wine in my glass with one chug. It’s been a week since Simona and I had sex and I still wanted more. I should never had underestimated her addictive qualities. We spent most of our time in Santorini making love, after all. I thought my obsession with her would have cooled after five years. I was young and hotheaded back then. One would think that a more mature me would have better control over lustful impulses.

However, I found myself over the past weeks thinking of her sweet body, how amazing being inside her felt and the most powerful orgasm I’ve had in a long time. I dared not count how long. The two weeks we spent away from each other had only inflamed my passion and not dampen it. I spent that period living on the edge. I was the more erudite of my family. Rico and Nico liked to call me a nerd. Shooting people and living in hiding was not my thing. Living like every day was my last, was not my thing. And now that Saccone was eliminated, the tense period I had gone through had only made me want Simona more. No wonder men fucked anything and everything after the war back in the day.

“Morelli!” The voice of a burly middle-aged man took me out of my thoughts. It was a long-time business partner of mine, the host himself, Ivanov. “How are you?” I said, offering a hand, but he gave me a hug instead, slapping my back hard twice. “I thought you said birthday parties were not you thing? What made you change your mind?”

“You’re my friend. Why would I miss your daughter’s birthday party?” Ivanov did not look like he bought it, but he was gracious enough to act otherwise.

“They grow so fast, don’t they? Yesterday she was calling me ‘papa’. Today she’s saying ‘Daddy, I need a big twenty-one birthday bash,’ so I gave it to her.” He punctuated his sentence with a laugh. Beside me, I felt Simona wince. I knew what she was thinking. There’s no way a girl that young wanted to celebrate her birthday with her dad’s old friends and business partners. This party was very much Ivanov’s than it was his daughter’s.

“And is this the lovely wife of yours I keep hearing about?” Ivanov said, taking Simona’s hand in his. He said something in Russian and Simona replied, “That’s for you to find out,” snatching her hand away playfully. Ivanov laughed. “No wonder you married her. I was saving my daughter for you, but I see you found beauty, brains and wits all in one person.”

“I’m a lucky man.”

“That you are,” he said as he was being interrupted by one of the service staff. “So glad you came. I hope we can chat more, but in the meantime, please enjoy,” he said before leaving us.

“I didn’t know you spoke Russian,” I said to Simona.

“Surprised I have more skills than you thought capable?”

“Oh no. I can never underestimate your capacity for hidden talents. Especially not after Santorini.”

She shook her head. “You should get over it. It was five years ago.”

“Am I supposed to forget that my darling little wife is a con artist and thief who preys on men?”

“And yet you married me.”

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