Still naked, sore from the epic lovemaking, and a little drowsy from the nap I just woke up from, I do what he says.
I open the door, and gasp. He’s had all my clothes brought here, but it’s only the beginning. Shelves upon shelves of shoes, boots, sandals, sneakers. Rows upon rows of dresses, sweaters, tops and bottoms. But that’s not what makes me gasp. Small knobs are fastened along one wall and he has various tools and toys displayed. I wonder for the first time if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
“Vittoria, come here.” I feel as if I’m walking on needles, waiting for him to instruct me to bring one of those wicked-looking tools to him. I’m already drunk from the sex that we’ve had all day long, and I’m not sure what he’ll make me do next.
I can’t get away from him even if I wanted to, but the physical restraint makes everything seem more intense. He walks to the closet and returns with a few things I don’t recognize. A blindfold, a stick of some sort, and a small little leather thing. He fastens my ankles to the stick, spreading my legs wide. I feel as if I’ve been trussed up for a sacrifice.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks, working some tool in his hand. I love the look of concentration he gets, the way he focuses on me like there’s nothing in the world that matters. And the deliberate, calculated pain he administers in small doses escalates in every nerve in my body so that they sing in a euphoric symphony.
So I tell him. “I feel as if you’re going to sacrifice me on some kind of altar.”
“Sacrifice?” He shakes his head, bends, and pinches my ass cheek.
“Ow!”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? I’m giving you to no one.” He unravels a soft leather strap.
“Nuh uh.” My pulse quickens.
“No?” His voice is hard, demanding. “You’re telling me no?”
“I am,” I say loftily, using every ounce of courage I own. “And what are you gonna do about it?”
He lifts a leather belt and comes to the bed as if I’ve just given him a gift.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“That all the world will be in love with night...”~Romeo and Juliet
Romeo
I wake beside the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. The early morning light illuminates her skin, but I like to think it’s the all-night lovemaking that paints her cheeks that soft, pale blush. The scent of coffee lingers in the air, cinnamon and bread and bacon.
“Is this our honeymoon? I can deal with this. Forget traveling,” she murmurs, her eyes still closed but a smile playing on her lips. “All I need to do is make love to my husband and eat the food your staff makes.”
“You’ll have both of those things for the rest of your life.” I roll over and kiss her cheek, already hard just watching her lie here next to me. She rolls over to meet me halfway, and slides her hand to my cock. Her fingers wrap around me, and she begins to stroke while shooting me a wicked grin.
“My, my,” she whispers. “Your stamina’s impressive, Romeo.”
I kiss her cheek as I nestle my face in the hollow of her neck.
After we settle peace back into The Castle, some of us will go back to our homes in various places in Massachusetts. Tavi to his place in Boston near the North End, Orlando to Tuscany to oversee the vineyards and winery, Mario to wherever the hell his harem will follow him, and Santo… I still need to deal with Santo.
He tried to marry Vittoria, but my sources confirm he was blackmailed by my father. We had to deal with the aftermath of the attack, and I wanted a few days with Vittoria before I dealt with him, so I had him stationed at a safe house in South Boston until today.
Today, we deal.
After a morning languishing about in bed, we rouse ourselves and get ready for the day. Nonna meets us in the dining room with a platter of Vittoria’s favorite pastries, sfogliatella, flaky pastry filled with ricotta and candied fruit.
“My God, you’ll fatten me up,” Vittoria says, but that doesn’t stop her from taking two of them.
Nonna smiles. “Too thin!” she says, waving her fist in the air. “Too thin. Your grandfather, he like,” she says, gesturing to the pastries before waddling out of the room.
Vittoria looks at me, her eyes wide, the sfogliatella halfway to her mouth. She blinks in surprise at me. “Did she say my grandfather?’
“She did.” Motherfucker. “Nonna!”
Nonna looks over her shoulder inquisitively. “Si?”
“You knew her grandfather?”
“Si,” she says with a nod before the door shuts behind her.
“Nonna!”
She comes back to us with a labored sigh. “Much to cook, Romeo, what is it?”
“We didn’t know that. How did you know her grandfather? It’s important.”