Page 20

20

Stella

L ast night, I caved and slept on the new mattress with my husband.

Mostly, I wanted to test Andre and see whether he’d respect my boundaries. I’m only slightly disappointed he didn’t do anything other than flop on his side and immediately begin to snore. How did I miss the grizzly bear impression the other nights?

Again, he left early for work without waking me, which some may deem considerate, while I think it’s rude.

After spending the morning visiting my sleeping mom at home, I’m now striding down the sidewalk toward Annie’s building in another sweater dress — a red one today with tall black boots, a matching red leather purse, and the black coat Andre bought. I glance over my shoulder like usual before I buzz the door, hoping nobody I know sees me going inside.

The busy street seems normal, until I see a familiar Franco’s Pizza van slow as it passes me. The two dark-haired men in the front seat stare right at me until they notice my gaze is on them. That’s when they quickly look away, and I know they weren’t just checking out my ass.

It’s the same van I saw coming out of Andre’s building yesterday when I was waiting for my ride, then again leaving the hospital last night all the way in Brooklyn. Now, the pizza joint’s van is on the same street as me today in Manhattan.

Son of a bitch!

I face Annie’s building while watching the van out of the corner of my eye. It finally pulls to the curb in a tow zone.

Furious, I reach into my purse and pull out the switchblade I keep inside before striding down the street toward them.

The van cranks up, but before it pulls away, I jerk open the passenger door and place the pointed end of the knife to the passenger’s crotch.

“Fuck!” the man squeals.

The driver hangs his head. “Ah, shit.”

“Ferraro or Rovina?” I ask the men, who are obviously from one of the Italian families. The two exchange glances with each other but don’t answer me. “Well? Which one has you fucking following me around?”

I have to jab the knife through the guy’s jeans before he breaks. “Ferraro, fuck!”

“Which Ferraro?” I ask just to be certain.

“Dre,” the driver says. “Could you please not cut off his dick? We’re just doing our job, Mrs. Ferraro.”

“Don’t call me that!” I shout. “Give me your phones.”

“What?”

“Give me your cell phones!”

The men fumble around, lifting their hips to remove the devices from their pockets. I don’t worry about them pulling a weapon on me. After all, they were sent to spy on me, not harm me.

I take the devices one at a time, tossing them into my purse.

“Now will you back off? Jesus,” the driver mutters.

“Fuck you.” I step away from the van. “Stop following me!” Before I walk away in the direction of Andre’s office building, I stab my knife into the front right tire, then the back right. That should keep them busy for a while.

* * *

I am fucking livid!

How dare he have me followed like I’m a child or his property!

It’s one thing if he wants guards with me while I’m shopping, but visits to my therapist are none of his goddamn business!

The fifteen-block walk to Andre’s office only enrages me further, making my cute but painful boots squeeze the shit out of my toes.

However, when I finally sweet talk my way onto the right floor, I’m surprised by how…professional the law office looks. I’m not sure why I imagined a mob lawyer working in the back of some run-down Italian restaurant or bar. It’s a legit firm, obviously, to be able to afford the nice interior. There are so many attorneys and assistants that there are stairs in the middle leading up to another level.

Andre’s office isn’t surrounded by glass walls like most of the others. And the reason I was angry enough to come and confront my husband is forgotten when I see the little tart sitting at the desk just outside his closed door.

“Hi, can I help you?” she asks, looking up at me with a friendly smile. A smile I’m sure she flashes at Andre twenty times a day. I can even tell while she’s sitting down that the blonde is tall enough for a runway and my complete opposite in every damn way.

Through her thin and ridiculously tight, white button-down, I can see the lace of her black bra. Only a slut would wear a dark bra under a white shirt in the office for everyone to see.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask even though I already have a guess.

Her cheerful, professional smile falters. “I’m Victoria, Mr. Ferraro’s assistant.”

“Is that right?” I mutter. “How long have you been working for Mr. Ferraro ?”

She blinks at me and in that instant, goes from professional to bitchy. “I’m not sure how that’s any of your business. Now, if you want to tell me your name, I’ll inform Mr. Ferraro as soon as he finishes up his appointment.”

“Why the fuck are you dressed like that in a law office? Don’t you know that Mr. Ferraro ,” I say his name not with my usual venom, but with her sultry tone, “is a married man, now?” I hold up my ring finger to show her, flashing it alone as if it’s my middle finger.

Her big ass lips that are too plump to be real, form an O of surprise. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you were his wife.”

Oh, this bitch.

I’m an expert at speaking the passive aggressive language of cunts, so I know exactly what she’s inferring. When she said she didn’t have any idea I was his wife, it was her way of saying she thinks Andre could do so much better than me, meaning her perfect, young, model ass, no doubt. She can’t be a day over twenty-five.

“Tell my husband I’m here to see him.”

“I can’t interrupt him during a meeting.”

“You can’t, huh? Well, I can.”

Marching up to the office door, I don’t bother knocking before I turn the doorknob and barge inside.

Andre’s eyes widen from where he sits behind his desk, and so do the eyes of the two men in cheap suits he’s currently meeting with at the moment.

Rather than yell and ask me what the hell I think I’m doing barging into his office, he asks softly, “Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not,” I huff, trying to remember why I showed up in the first place.

It’ll come to me, eventually.

First, we’re going to discuss his slutty assistant. I feel like an idiot for not knowing he gets up early and stays late in this office with that little bitch.

“I think we’re finished here, anyway, right gentlemen?” Andre asks the two guys, who nod adamantly and get to their feet as if relieved to be able to flee the office. “I’ll be in touch.” He stands from behind his desk to show them out and close the door.

As soon as we’re alone, he asks, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“What’s wrong? Have you seen what your assistant is wearing?” I gesture through the door with my thumb. “What am I even saying? You’re a man. Of course you’ve seen what she’s wearing! Are you fucking her?”

“Whoa.” Andre staggers back a step at my blurted question, palms raised in front of him.

“You are, aren’t you? Well, you can find another apartment to sleep in tonight, because your dirty dick isn’t coming anywhere near me even when I’m unconscious!”

“Stella,” the asshole says in his gruff husband voice. “I have never touched her. Never .”

I scoff at his denial. “You are so full of shit. I didn’t see the bottom half, but I have no doubt, her skirt barely covers her ass. It’s like she’s begging for you to bend her over your desk!”

Taking a slow, deep breath, Andre slips his hands into his pants pockets. “Fine. You know what? If you want me to, I’ll fire her. I’ve been putting it off…but I knew it was inevitable.”

“You knew it was inevitable? Oh, come on. She’s still sitting out there, waiting like a good girl for her Zaddy to ravage her!”

The fact he bites back a smile makes me want to slap his smug, handsome face. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, mia dolce vipera .”

“I’m not jealous.” I fold my arms. “And stop calling me your sweet viper!”

Moving toward me, Andre holds out both of his hands as if he’s going to grab my upper arms.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I warn him while taking a step back out of his reach.

“Right. Sorry.” He lowers his hands and sits on the edge of his desk. His thick arms cross to mimic my pose. Eyes on me, a near smile on his face, he says, “But you are jealous. And while I am thrilled you hate the idea of me with some other woman, I don’t like that you’re upset.”

I refuse to comment, since a denial wouldn’t be believable. I also can’t admit I loathe the thought of him with anyone else, especially the pretty blonde bitch on the other side of the door.

“Victoria, get in here!” he yells loud enough I startle a little and take another step back.

The door opens less than half a second later, as if the slut was standing right outside of it, listening to our argument.

“Yes, sir?” she asks, ever the submissive assistant. And yes, she’s tall, thin, and wearing a skirt that isn’t long enough to cover her ass when she sits down.

“I think it’s time for you to find another job,” Andre declares while keeping his gaze on me. “Effective immediately.”

“But —” Her eyes widen in shock for a long moment before she glares at me, knowing I’m to blame.

I can’t help but flash her a grin. “Aw, that’s too bad.”

“W-why? What did I do wrong?”

Andre looks from me to the woman. “I’m sure you’ll find another position soon enough,” he replies without answering her questions. “I’ll pay you three months of severance while you search for a new job.”

“Three months!” I exclaim in disbelief, but Andre ignores me.

“You can go ahead, pack up your things, and head on out now.”

Well, at least there’s that. Three month’s salary is worth it to have her ass out of here immediately.

The girl huffs and takes a breath as if to beg or plead. Instead of doing either of those things, though, she decides to say what she really thinks of me. “You are such a bitch.”

“That’s Mrs. Ferraro to you, cunt!” I call after her just before she leaves and slams the door in frustration.

“Happy?” Andre asks me.

“Deliriously,” I mutter, only feeling slightly better he got rid of the girl. I still find it hard to believe he never slept with her. If I were a man, I’d have at least gotten a few blowjobs under the desk out of the eager little bitch.

“She’s not my type,” Andre says as if reading my mind.

That makes me scoff. “Oh, blonde, beautiful, young, and tall aren’t your type?”

“You’re my type.”

“You are laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

“Are you going to tell me the real reason you’re here or make me guess?” He studies me smugly with his arms still folded.

“I…I was…”

He chuckles. Fucking chuckles. “You can’t remember, can you?”

“I was distracted by her perfect tits!”

“Her tits aren’t perfect,” Andre says before he quickly adds, “Not that I looked at them or anything, but if I had, I bet they were too small to even be a handful for me.”

My eyes roll hard at that lie. “Uh-huh.”

“And if I had looked at her ass, I’m sure it would’ve been bony, not enough meat on it. Nothing like your fine, delicious ass.”

“You are so full of shit,” I huff again, even if a smile threatens to ruin my righteous indignation.

“I take it back.” Andre lowers his arms and straightens to his full, intimidating height. “You’re not cute when you’re jealous. You’re sexy as hell. Come here. Let me touch you, baby.”

My traitorous feet carry me to him before I even know what I’m doing, foolishly giving him the permission to touch me.

“Why don’t you take some of your jealous rage out on me?” He reaches and runs a single finger underneath my chin.

For some reason I can’t comprehend, that’s exactly what I want to do. Even though I’m furious at him and almost certain he lied, I can’t help but want to try to get her off his mind once and for all.

So, I do something that surprises me and Andre both. I cup the side of his bearded face and kiss him. It’s not a sweet kiss but a possessive one. I shove my tongue into his mouth, laying claim to him, reminding him who he belongs to.

And then a moment later, my palms are reaching around to grab his ass, pulling his big, hard body flush against mine.

When I feel his erection, I’m not sure if it was caused by our kiss or by the cat fight I just caused. Either way, I palm it, squeezing it hard enough to make him groan, claiming it as mine too.

Then, I do possibly the stupidest thing ever.

My fingers unfasten his belt and the front of his pants, sliding the zipper down before I release Andre’s mouth to drop to my knees.