Page 7 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince

DARIO

I watch her go, stunned by what she’s said.

Clearly, she felt uncomfortable with the two massage therapists, mistakenly thinking she was less attractive than them.

She can’t know how ridiculous that is to me.

It’s not just that I prefer the curves of her body over the petite look.

It’s her personality too, shining in her expression, her sassiness, and her don’t-give-a-fuck attitude.

Snapping to my senses, I jog after her. “Siena, wait up.”

She turns to me. With the sea glistening behind her, a palm leaf blew loose in the wind and danced down the beach. When she stormed off, her cheeks were red, and she was pouting.

Now she’s hiding her expression. “How can I help you?”

“Don’t get all official with me now. The wind is picking up. I’m escorting you to the photoshoot spot.”

“Do I have a choice?”

I should tell her she does. But she might tell me to back off. I can’t. I won’t.

Being near her isn’t just what I want—it’s what I need. To make her smile. To make her laugh. To claim her as mine. “Nope,” I say.

She shrugs. “Okay then, Mr. Bianchi, then I guess we’re going together.”

“Lead the way.”

She looks down as she skirts the edge of the beach.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to stay behind,” she mutters.

Is she jealous? She sounds jealous, but I don’t want to point that out. Or get my hopes up?

“They weren’t my type.”

She scoffs.

“I’m serious,” I tell her.

“What’s your type, then?”

“I like women who are around five-five, with honey-colored eyes and wavy hair, and the curvier the better. In fact, if their billowy dresses rest against their perfect bodies when the wind gets going, that’s even better. That drives me nuts.”

She looks up at me, stern-faced.

“Stop pretending you don’t want to smile.”

“I don’t,” she says.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t …”

She turns away. I gently touch her face and turn her gaze back to me. She’s got a smile on her lips, one she can’t fight.

“Just what I thought,” I tell her.

“I still don’t know what your game is.”

“My ‘game’ is making you smile, and so far, I’m winning, even if you don’t want me to.”

We stand like this for a long time, under the shadow of the palm trees, with no one around except us. She doesn’t move my hand from her face. I can feel her warmth radiating up my arm.

“I hear your family is very powerful.”

I lower my hand. Does she know we’re a mob family, or is she talking about our public persona, the Old Money lie?

“I suppose you could say that.”

“If I wanted to turn you down, it would be difficult for me,” she said.

“No, it wouldn’t, because I’m talking to you as a man, Siena, just a regular man, not some rich, powerful douche who’s going to take what he wants when he wants.”

She doesn’t reply, just turns and keeps walking.

Silently, I wonder if I told the truth. Taking her how and when I want sounds like a dream.

“The shoot location isn’t far,” she says. “It’s the highest point on the island. It should give your parents the best view.”

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“Actually, I planned a lot of this. I just didn’t think I’d be doing it alone.”

“You’re doing a fantastic job.”

“Thanks,” she says quietly. “I hope so.”

“I know so.”

We walk in silence for a short while, then she says, “I didn’t mean to snap at you before.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I don’t do that. I’m not immature… usually.”

“You’re under a lot of stress.”

“You can say that again.”

“You’re under a lot of stress.”

She laughs. “Douche.”

“I enjoy making you laugh, Siena. It’s like you do it in spite of yourself, like you feel guilty for laughing. It makes it feel earned. And for the record, you’re ten times more beautiful than those massage therapists.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t say silly things.”

“I mean it.”

“Then you’re crazy.”

I take her hand as we keep walking, relieved when she doesn’t pull away.

It’s like she’s got a defensive wall around her, and slowly, brick by brick, it’s crumbling down.

Soon, we walk up the rock formation that brings us to the photoshoot spot, giving us a glorious view of the island, the palm trees, and the glistening water beyond.

The footing is a little uneven, but overall, it makes for a brilliant spot.

“This is beautiful,” Siena says. “I think I’ll need to make sure there is staff here to get people up and down safely, those with mobility issues and things like that.”

“Good thinking, but right now, you’ve got one job.”

“What’s that?”

I put my arm around her and pull her against me. “Enjoy the view.”

She laughs softly. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

“Not usually.”

“So I’m special, huh, is that it?”

“You say that with sarcasm, but yeah, you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters. “You’re nuts if you think I’m going to fall for your lines.”

“I’m just glad you’re not running away from me.”

She moves a little closer. “This feels kind of nice. But it means nothing.”

“How could it? We’re strangers. But you’re right–it’s nice.”

But ‘nice’ feels like too small a word. My body is growing hot, and it’s not from the heat. My mind is swelling with strange fantasies of what could happen after this trip…

I can’t let myself go there. A sunny, adventurous hookup is one thing. Thinking about anything after is a surefire disappointment.

She doesn’t even know I’m in the mob.

“But,” she says, disentangling herself from me. “I don’t think we should get carried away.”

“Who’s getting carried away? I just thought we’d practice some poses for the photoshoot.”

“Poses, huh?”

“Yeah, like this one.” She gasps when I grip the small of her back and press her against me, staring longingly into her honey colored eyes, my body responding to her closeness straightaway. “What do you think?”

Her breathing quickens, her chest rising and falling, causing the roundness of her breasts to brush against me. She raises her hand, hesitates, then presses it against my chest and digs her fingernails in just a little.

“This might make for an inappropriate photo,” she says breathily.

“What about this?” I lean down, guiding my lips toward hers. For a long, aching moment, I think she’s going to let it happen, her lips pursed as she looks up at me, her eyes filled with need.

At the last moment, before the kiss, she pushes against my chest, creating distance between us. Her expression turns suddenly angry.

“What?” I say. “I thought a kiss might make a good photo…”

“You’re getting too carried away, Dario. I’m not just going to kiss you because…”

“Because what? You want to? Because it’d be fun? Seeing that we’re in this idyllic place, why not make the most of it?” “You don’t know me,” she says. “You don’t know how I feel or what I want. Do you even know if I have a boyfriend?” “Do you?” I say.

“No, but that’s not the point.”

“Thank fuck,” I whisper.

She offers what I’m quickly starting to think of as her Siena Smile, one of conflict and uncertainty, gorgeous through and through. She shakes her head as if she can push the smile away.

“We’re both single then,” I go on. “What’s the issue?”

“You’re my boss’s son. Well, my client’s, so he might as well be my boss. I’m not the casual hookup sort of gal.”

“What if I wanted more?” I say with a note of irony, a smirk on my lips.

“Even if you weren’t just saying what you think I want to hear, I don’t want that. I just want to do a good job. That’s it. The end.”

“Keep telling yourself that, beautiful.”

She groans. “You make me want to pull my hair out.”

“If there’s any hair pulling to be done, I’ll be the one doing it.”

I grab her hips and pull her against me again, my rod growing stiff. She makes a breathy noise of pleasure and sinks her touch into my side, gazing deep into my eyes.

“Maybe that’s what you need, huh?” I trail my hand up her back and gently tug at her hair. “Someone to take charge? So that you don’t have to be in control all the time…”

She shakes her head slowly, but I can tell she likes it.

“Let go,” she whispers.

“Say that like you mean it.”

“It doesn’t matter how I say it. Let go, Dario!”

Slowly, I relinquish my touch, my control.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re mad,” I say.

“You’re a douche.” Her cheeks have turned red, and her eyes are sparkling and full of excitement. “You want me to treat you like a regular guy, like you’re not my client’s son? There it is, Dario. You’re a D-O-U-C-H-E.”

“And you fucking love it.”

She rolls her eyes as she turns away.

“Make sure you shift those hips for me like you did earlier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but she does it, and I know it’s on purpose because she looks over her shoulder again. She swishes her hips from side to side, hypnotizing me.

“Talk about mixed signals,” I call after her.

“It’s all in your head,” she replies.

“Keep telling yourself that, angel.”

Once she’s gone, I stuff my hands in my pockets and look down at the island before me. From up here, the people on the beach seem small, and the ocean seems endless.

The city, mafia business, my normal life–it all seems impossibly faraway.