Page 75 of Mafia Bride
“You’ve been smoking.”
“So?”
I bury my face against his shirt. “It’s bad for you.”
His chest rumbles as he scoffs, placing me gently into the back seat of the car where the car’s dome lamp turns the world under my eyelids into a flat orange. He buckles me in but doesn’t close the door just yet. He takes my hand. Thick metal slides down my ring finger.
“Same as before,” he says, and I open my eyes to see him in all his stern glory. “You are not to take these rings off, ever. Not to bathe. Not to cook. Not unless someone cuts off your finger. Do you understand?”
I nod.
He shuts the door and joins Loretta on the porch. The tightness in my stomach this creates wakes me up more than anything. She hands him a bag I’ve never seen before. Unlike the performance at our arrival, she doesn’t move to hug him or kiss him. Santino looks back to me a time or two while they talk.
He’s eager to get back.
It warms me in syrupy places I’d rather not admit exist. I’d be okay living like this forever. Reality edges back in when I lift my hand to my face and feel the weight of the rings once again. They’re still a sign of bondage, but they’re also a sign of my safety.
He’d break heaven and earth to save me. That gives me a little power, something I can use in the future, or enjoy now.
Power over a man like Santino, who grazed my panties and made my whole world want to erupt sends a tingle down my spine. His touch was lingering, perfect, not enough. Even the sting of his hands on my wounds felt so good it stirred something deep and desperate in me. Santino could have taken my virginity in that very moment, when I was too weak to resist.
All I can see, as he walks back to the car, is the outline of his statuesque body leaving hers behind for me, and I’m wet all over again.
He gets in the car and tosses a bag in the seat next to me. “Those are your things.”
My things, laundered. I’m still in a flimsy nightgown.
“Thank you.”
As he turns to back out, he doesn’t watch the road. He stares at me like he’s devouring my soul. Phantom fingers stroke my thighs, my calves, steal my breath.
Somehow, he knows. He knows how wet I was and how much wetter I’ve become and when his fingers curl around the back of the seat it’s just a reminder of how they felt when they touched me.
He doesn’t say a word as we drive. I want him to talk to me.
“It was nice of Loretta to take care of me.”
Our eyes meet in the rearview.
“You want to ask me something,Forzetta?”
“Will you answer?”
“Probably not.”
I take a deep breath and make myself look in the rearview. “How long have you been fucking her?”
“That mouth.” Santino shakes his head. Then he meets my eyes again. “Why do you want to know?”
“I want to know how long it’s going to take me to get that bitter over you.”
“She’s not bitter.” He shakes his head at me but I can see a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “And she’s not my wife.”
“Why not? I mean, she’s beautiful. Loyal. You obviously trust her.” More than me.
“Yes. She’s a good woman. But I only have one wife. She knew from day one.”
“So, when was that? Day one?”
