Page 6 of Falling for the Mafia Dom
Love you.
Love ya too babes.
Rolling out of bed, I head into the bathroom. I brush my teeth and pull my hair up into a messy bun before returning my attention to the remaining boxes at the foot of the bed.
Finding my Air Pods when I open the box, I slide them into my ears as I crank up the volume on my playlist. Dancing to Doja Cat and The Weeknd, I make quick work of putting away two boxes of my things.
A grumble of my stomach leaves me debating if I want to tackle these last few boxes or go grab something from the kitchen. Not wanting to lose my momentum, I opt to just suffer through and put away the last of my belongings.
The amount of ways I never want to have to move homes ever again cannot be described in words.
My stomach is growling at me angrily when I grab my phone and begin to make my way to the kitchen. I am to the stairs before it dawns on me that I’m in an oversized T-shirt and boy shorts.
Apparently, when you live with girls for four years you get pretty comfortable. It should be fine, Venecia said I would be here by myself for a few days anyway.
Cardi B begins to play through my Air Pods when I reach the bottom of the stairs. Trying to remember my way to the kitchen, I poorly twerk my butt down the hallway. Rummaging through the cabinets, I only have to open two before finding the coffee cups.
Pouring my cup of coffee, I sing along at the top of my lungs, “Gobble me. Swallow me. Drip down the side of me. Quick, jump out ‘fore you let it get inside of me.”
Turning around with the full cup in my hand, I toss it into air and scream at the top of my lungs, “Jesus fucking Christ.”
The mug shatters, but that is the least of my worries. My heart is thumping in my ears, and I can barely catch my breath when I find that I am not alone in this house.
Standing in the doorway is an older man. His hair and well-manicured beard are primarily gray. The hair and slight wrinkles on his face are really the only things that show his age. Well, maybe also his blue eyes that look like they have seen more than I could even imagine.
My eyes slowly drag down the rest of his towering body, taking in his broad shoulders and obvious physique, which is not hidden beneath his well-fitted and properly pressed white button-up shirt and trousers. While still clearly older than me, he looks to be in remarkable shape.
Seeing that his lips are moving but I can’t hear him, I realize that WAP is still blasting in my ears. Awkwardly fumbling to tear the Air Pods from my ears, his lips have stopped moving by the time I have them in my hand.
“Huh?” I squawk at him.
Classy Ellie.
Mom would tan your hide for that.
I can feel myself beginning to sweat as I wait anxiously for him to repeat himself for me. When I realize that I am standing before him in nothing more than a T-shirt and panties, as his eyes rake over me, I feel every bit of me turning red from sheer embarrassment.
ChapterFive
SALVATORE
Even though Venecia and I had talked about her new nanny moving into Lorenzo’s old suite on the opposite end of the house from me, I was still caught off-guard when I caught a glimpse of the young woman singing and dancing her way past my office door.
For some reason, I expected Mary Poppins, not a scantily clad, sorority girl.
My intrigue gets the best of me, and I stand from my desk. I vaguely catch a glimpse of her stepping into the kitchen as I cross the threshold from my office into the hallway. I can hear her opening and closing cabinets as I make my way to the kitchen.
Standing in the doorway, I lean against the frame as I take her in.
Scantily clad might have been an understatement based on what I can now see.
The petite blonde is standing across the kitchen with her back to me as she pours a cup of coffee. Her feet are bare, much like her well-toned legs. She is wearing a T-shirt that is several sizes too big, likely belonging to a boyfriend. The movements from her dancing continuously lift the shirt just high enough that I catch continued glimpses of her pert ass and the flower-patterned panties she has on underneath it.
She suddenly belts out, “Gobble me. Swallow me. Drip down the side of me. Quick, jump out ‘fore you let it get inside of me.”
The corner of my mouth ticks up, and I am not certain if it is from the words she was singing or the fact that this beautiful girl might be as tone-deaf as they come.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she yelps at the top of her lungs when she turns around to find me standing in the doorway. I watch as she tosses the cup of coffee. Its contents splatter across the tile and cabinets, the cup shattering to pieces on the floor around her.
