Page 100 of Dirty Mafia Sinner

Pathetic.

I bite my lip as he pulls himself up to sit on the pool ledge. His beautiful physique is bigger now, though he’s too far away to savor his eight-pack abs or the deep V dive toward his massive cock. His body’s branded in my mind from that morning, when my fingers explored every inch of him in the afterglow of our lovemaking.

How I wish he’d left when he threatened to and that what followed never happened.

He lifts his head and looks toward me.

Why mention that morning—and in vivid detail?

Why bring up the past when I’m clearly not part of the future?

A brunette approaches, distracting him.

I grit my teeth as her uniform drops.

Then retreat back inside my gilded cage.

I’m not special. Or the object of his affection.

I am just a plaything he loves to hate on.

“What does fidanzata mean?”

Tommaso stops in his tracks as I catch up to him. Four days have passed since the disastrous dinner. The weather’s beautiful even if my mood’s sour, and my time’s spent strolling the beach and avoiding the monster. Not that he notices or cares.

Except his best soldier always seems in a hurry whenever I’m near.

“For shit’s sake, why ask me that?”

I shrug a shoulder. “I keep hearing it, is all.” Heard, as in hissed, snarled, taunted, and gloated. If my iPad hadn’t disappeared, I’d translate the word. I’d be better prepared for them if I understood what they’re saying.

Alessandro’s horde keep saying it like it’s a huge secret I’m not privy to.

“Heard where?” With forked eyebrows, Tommaso scans the patio until his attention halts on the horde sunning themselves by the casita. “What exactly are they saying?”

Four days spent hearing it, and despite the limited Italian, I’m confident in my pronunciation. “Sandro odia la sua fidanzata.”

“You tell Sandro?”

“We’re not speaking.”

Tommaso looks pained. “That explains everything.”

“So, what does it mean?”

“It means…” He shakes his head. “…You should ignore it.”

I glance at the women, wishing them sunburns on their bared breasts, then mutter, “I wish I could.”

“That bad?” he asks like he genuinely cares. Alessandro called him his “best man,” so it’s strange my only friend is this hulking brute.

“Bad. I can’t call my grandparents today. Seems my iPad’s disappeared.”

His scowl’s fierce. “Fuck that. I’ll handle it.”

I flash him a smile. “Thank you.”

“In exchange for something else.”