It was better than I could have imagined. Her naked body was more perfect than I’d dreamed, her pussy the tightest I’ve ever felt, so much so that I’d lost all the control that I’d planned to have. She’d asked me to make it quick, and that had been embarrassingly easy, but I’d touched and kissed her in ways that I hadn’t planned on doing. I’d meant to make it reserved and cold, and instead I’d fucked her with the abandon that I’d so carefully tried to avoid.
She’d just felt so fucking good. Better than any sex I’ve ever had, better than any woman I’ve ever touched. All I want is to take her to bed again, to explore all the curves and valleys of her body that I didn’t get to last night, to touch and taste her and learn every inch of her.
But that’s not in the cards, and I know that. I got one night, which was more than I’d expected.
Now it’s time to get the fuck over it.
With the way Sofia is behaving, it doesn’t seem like I’ll have much of a choice. She dresses in the bathroom, careful not to give me another glimpse of her naked, and emerges in a knee-length, bright green dress that sets off the color of the stones in her ring and makes her skin and hair glow even more than usual. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen—and I’m married to her.
Not that that seems to matter, really.
Tomorrow I’ll begin making plans. I’ll find her an apartment, set up a security team just for her, and as soon as a week or so has passed without movement on the Bratva’s part, I’ll have her moved into it. We can avoid each other until then. She’ll be safe, which was all I was ever supposed to worry about.
I wasn’t supposed to want her, or care about her, or feel anything for her other than what I always have. She’s a box to check off, a line item to deal with. I can’t think of her in any other way.
But it’s impossible to go back to that now. Now that I’ve seen her, now that I know her. She’s rebellious, infuriating, stubborn, and stronger than I think even she knows. She doesn’t know how to use it yet, how to navigate her place in this world, but there’s something about that innocence that draws me, too. Not just sexually, but because it reminds me that I’ve never been that innocent. I both crave it and resent it all at once, the idea that there was ever a life outside of the one I was born into.
When Sofia comes out of the bathroom she doesn’t say a single word. She packs her things, hanging up the dress and carefully avoiding my eyes, and then she sits in the loveseat furthest away from me, studying her phone as we both wait for Rossi and the others to come up. I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling more awkward than I have since I was a teenager. Outwardly I don’t show it, but the fact that I’m sitting on the bed of our honeymoon suite with my new wife studiously ignoring me, waiting for my boss to come up and see the proof that I fucked her last night has me feeling more than a little uncomfortable.
When the knock at the door comes, I see her flinch. She doesn’t move to get up, however, and I cross the room to open it, careful to keep my expression smooth despite my own nerves. If Rossi suspects that anything is off, that’ll be it for both of us—but Ididsleep with her. It’s not either of our faults that we had to make her bleed through other means.
Rossi walks into the room, followed by his wife Giulia and Caterina. two women look carefully blank-faced—I can only imagine what they think of this particular ritual—and Rossi has a thin-lipped expression, as if he’s anticipating some problem. That I haven’t obeyed . It makes my stomach knot, because no matter what, I’ve lost some measure of his trust. A flood of resentment rises up in me, towards both SofiaandRossi. Sofia, because her naivete got us here in the first place, Rossi, because one stupid and unimportant lie has set back years of loyalty and work. All the blood on my hands, all the things I’ve done, all the unwavering devotion I’ve shown to him and to the family, called into question because I made the mistake of allowing this girl to get under my skin.
Rossi has known plenty of women in his day. I’d have thought he would have understood. But plainly he sees any failure, any faltering, as a possible sign that nothing I’ve done has ever mattered.
To be honest, it makes me angry.
There’s one person I’d expected to see missing, and I glance over at Caterina. “Where’s Franco?” I ask curiously.
“He said he was too hungover to get up,” Caterina says with a slight twitch of her mouth, as if she’s trying not to laugh. “I asked if he was coming down for breakfast with everyone, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it. He was throwing up when I left.”
Giulia wrinkles her nose, but Rossi just laughs. “Ah, to be young again, eh?” He claps me on the shoulder, moving past me towards the bed. “Let’s witness this and be done with it. I’m starving.”
He strides towards the bed, the two women behind him, and yanks the blankets back. It’s there for all of them to see, the small dried bloodstain on the bed, and it takes everything in me to appear relaxed. There’s no reason for him to doubt it, but I can’t help but feel that he’ll see through it somehow. He studies the stain for a long moment, and I can feel the hard thump of my heartbeat in my chest.
But then Rossi turns to me, a broad grin on his face. “Passed a good night with your new bride, eh, Luca?" He claps me hard on the shoulder again, and I catch a glimpse of Caterina’s face—it looks so carefully blank that I can’t help but think she must have had some idea of how Sofia felt about the whole situation.
I suppose I should feel irritated about that, but I don’t. If anything, it’s good if Sofia feels she can confide in Caterina. Caterina is a good daughter, a good mafia woman, and if I’m lucky she’ll help instill in Sofia some of the values of a good mafia wife—teach her that resisting the way things are is hopeless.
Sofia got a lesson in that last night, already.
Rossi jerks his head sideways, indicating to me that he wants to speak to me out of earshot of the others. I follow him out into the hall, and as we step out I can hear the faint sound of Giulia speaking to Sofia. I can’t make out Sofia’s response, but her tone is reserved and cool.
Fine. As long as she’s polite.
Rossi looks at me as he closes the door behind him. “You obeyed orders, Luca. I’m pleased with you.”
“It was never my intent to make you distrust me,” I say quietly. “I wanted her to feel safe, that’s all.”
“You must always remember that your first loyalty is to the family,” Rossi says firmly. “Notyourfamily, Luca, but the greater family, the one that has raised you up and given you wealth and power and your place in the world. You’ve fought for it and bled for it, don’t lose it all over a woman. There’s a great many women in the world, and none of them are worth losing your head over. Literally or figuratively,” he adds with a smile, but there’s a warning in it and in his tone that I don’t miss.
“We’ll forget it ever happened,” he adds. “You’ve never given me any reason before to doubt you, Luca. It was an error, a misstep. We all make them.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say quietly, but inside I can feel my gut clenching. Rossi might say it’s forgotten, but I know it’s not. There’s a strike against me now, and in this world, you don’t always make it to three before you’re out.
“Come on,” he says, nodding towards the door. “I want to speak to your new bride. And after that, I’ll see you down at breakfast. I’ll understand if it takes a little longer for you both to come down, eh?” He grins at me as he pushes the door open, and I see Sofia’s face plainly as she looks up when we step inside.
It’s an expressionless mask, her body tense, her eyes flat and cold.It’s better this way,I tell myself. The more she freezes me out, the more she avoids me, the easier it should be to put her out of my head. To wash my hands of this whole messy business.