“I love your art collection,” I mention in passing as I’m blatantly stare at his backside.
“Ah, yes, I noticed at the museum, you were one of the few guests who enjoyed the viewing.”
“You do too, obviously.”
“Yes, I don’t know why. I like fashion and pretty things. Well,” he motions for me to sit on the sofa, the same one I sat on my first night here, “I’m partial to having nice things.
“That’s obvious.”
I sit and he helps himself to a cognac at the bar.
“I suppose so. What is it you desire, Valentina?”
“To be of use in some way. I want to help others.” I’m not going to confess I’ve never been in love and that I want him to fuck me till I can’t walk.
He nods as he approaches me. “Let’s watch some TV, I need to relax.”
I comply and follow him to the living room, where we both sit on the sofa.
Sitting beside me, he picks up a remote on the coffee table and at the press of a button, a TV comes up from inside the cabinet that holds books and a vase of flowers.
“Neat trick,” I chuckle. No wonder I couldn’t find the damn TV in here.
“I liked the wine at dinner.” I start a new conversation.
“I’m happy it meets your approval,” he replies; his eyes pass over my breasts, and I can tell I distract him.
He’s another man looking to dip his cock in me only he owns me, and I doubt he’ll make it special. We’re not a love match. No doubt he’ll approach sex like work. I see him on autopilot, going through the motions with no attachment. Killers can’t possibly feel emotions like love, or the mind and body connection that real lovers do.
“What do you have planned for me? I can’t mill around the house with nothing to do all day.”
“It’s just for now.”
“I miss my friend, and I’m stir crazy. Can you find a way for me to find a job?” I reply.
“Ah, I have your background report, I know you’re educated.”
“So, you know everything about me now?”
“I would say I know enough to understand your wish to be more productive in society, and that’s honorable. Maybe you can be a therapist for men in the mafia,” he jokes.
“Very funny.” My sardonic tone makes it clear I’m not amused.
“All kidding aside Valentina,” he says, setting his glass down and leaning into me. “I have plans for you, us.”
Sex appeal drips off him like rain, like the night we met. The adrenaline and excitement that night wasn’t just from the events in the garden. I realize now that it’s him, I want him. But I want him to want me, not pity me.
How can I protect myself from being heartbroken by a man that clearly has no time for a wife? He’s never had a long-term relationship according to Samira.
I can act like he doesn’t have an affect on me. But who am I kidding? My panties turn into a sponge when he walks into a room. I felt it the instant I bumped into him at the wedding, without knowing it was him. Our lives are entwined, and if we have kids, I’m forever bound.
I long to be kissed like that again but Massimo seems preoccupied. I try to keep my mind busy as anticipation spreads like fire down my torso, my abs, and coming to a rest nestling inside my pussy, where it pools into a warm, moist triangle.
Damn him for having the looks and sex appeal of a hot Italian movie star. He has a power over me that makes me forget my limitations. His is full of possibilities and excitement and I find I’m jealous that we’re in two different worlds under one roof.
“Do you kiss every woman you rescue? Or was it just me?”
His face is inches from my own as he slides a hand around my neck, his fingers gripping my throat.