Page 35 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

Soft hands slid up my back after the shower door opened. She pressed against me and kissed the nape of my nape. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be moody sometimes?”

I could still hear my father’s snide comments about me.

“Stop overthinking everything.”

“D’Agostinos are not weak. Get out of your own head and shoot him, Vito.”

Enzo had protected me, though, telling our father to fuck off and leave me alone.

“Yes,” I said simply.

When I didn’t expound on it, Maggie pursed her lips and moved under the spray. From under the curtain of water, she said, “I have so much to do today. I need to catch up on a thousand things.” She reached for the shampoo. “What about you?”

“Yes.” I lathered up some body wash in my palms and started washing myself. “But I’ll see you tonight. Come here for dinner.”

“Maybe.” She lathered up her hair. “I’ll see how the day goes.”

Wrong answer.

I rinsed, then angled her against the tile. Bending, I sucked on the skin of her neck, biting and licking her wet soft flesh, until she started moaning. Her arms held me close, her head angled to give me the access I needed. “That feels so good,” she said with a sigh.

I didn’t stop.

I scraped my teeth on her collarbone, I bit her ear lobe.

I used my lips and tongue to leave marks on her skin.

When I shoved my thigh between her legs to press against her pussy, I could feel her slick flesh on mine.

She was already getting turned on again.

My cock began responding, thickening, as blood pooled in my groin.

I squeezed the tips of her breasts, rolling her nipple between my thumb and middle finger.

When she was panting, clinging to me, soft sounds escaping her throat, I held her jaw and stared down at her. “You will be here tonight no later than six o’clock. I’ll have dinner waiting.”

“Vito.” Irritation laced her voice. “I have a lot to do.”

“Six o’clock, diavoletta mia. And if I have to come looking for you, there will be hell to pay.”

Releasing her, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist, not even caring that I was dripping water everywhere as I left.

Maggie

Relaxed and re-energized, I set out for the vineyards. Such was the power of orgasms, I supposed as I took a sip from the travel mug in my hand. Vito made me a double cappuccino to go when I said I didn’t have time for coffee today. Why was he so considerate? It was annoying.

I’d assumed we were back on the same “it’s just sex” page, but now I wasn’t so sure. Sleeping over every night? That was too couple-y. The dirty talk was one thing. Spending so much time together was another. I needed distance, not sharing our thoughts and feelings each evening.

My cell buzzed. It was Carlo, texting me to meet him at seven by the merlot vines. That left me ten minutes to change at home. I sent him a thumbs up. Then I noticed I had a text from BELLO waiting.

Six o’clock, diavoletta.

A tiny burst of giddiness warmed my chest, but I pushed it aside. Stop being silly, I told myself. Instead of agreeing, I sent Vito a devil face emoji.

The house was quiet, so I figured Massimo was asleep upstairs.

I needed to check in with my brother and Celeste, see how everything was going.

We had a team meeting at noon, when we usually ate lunch together.

As I changed clothes, I pulled up our group thread to confirm if the meeting was happening or not.

Mikey said that it was and Massimo would make us pizzas.

I nearly rubbed my hands together. Authentic Italian pizza? Halle-fucking-lujah.

Carlo was waiting for me when I arrived.

There were two shovels and a stack of white buckets that looked brand new.

He was holding two pairs of gloves and a pack of sample bags.

“Buongiorno,” he said, kissing my cheeks when I walked up.

“I hope I didn’t get you out of bed, but I assume you rise early, like me. ”

“You assume correctly. I’m usually outside by six. Six-thirty at the latest.”

“Va bene. I’ve arranged for a lab at Cornell to analyze the soil samples quickly. Then we will know what we are working with and how we might fertilize and improve, okay?”

“Sounds good.” I grabbed a shovel off the ground and accepted the gloves from him. “Where do you want to start?”

“I have a bucket for each grape variety. We will start in the merlot and move southward. I will get the subsoil, you get the topsoil.”

We began working together, shoveling dirt into buckets, then mixing with our hands to create one sample mixture. Then we filled the sample bag and moved on. Carlo was funny and personable, and he kept me entertained with stories of famous wineries and the people he’d met.

“How did Vito convince you to come here?” I asked as we worked in the Cabernet Franc section.

Carlo looked at me curiously. “You know his last name, no?”

“Of course, but . . . ”

“There is no but , signorina.” He dumped dirt in our bucket. “These men, they are rich, but they are also dangerous. You should remember that.” He strode away to another section and began digging.

“We’re not together,” I called after him.

When he returned and emptied his shovel, he leaned against it and stared down at me. “In my country, a father prays that his daughter doesn’t end up with a man like this. And I sense that he is . . . interested in you.”

I didn’t want Carlo to think I was pinning my hopes and dreams on marrying Vito. “We aren’t in Italy, and there isn’t any future for the two of us. We’re just having fun—temporary fun.”

“Va bene. A relief, because these men have a very narrow view of women and their role. And there is no way out, no matter how bad the situation might be, capisce?”

“Are you saying that I wouldn’t be allowed to dress like a farmer and run a winery as a mob wife?”

Carlo shook his head. “This would reflect badly on him. He needs a trophy, a model. Someone to make all the other men jealous.” Grimacing, he seemingly realized what he’d said. “Not that you aren’t beautiful. You would be a prize for any man.”

I held up my hand. “I get it. I’m not offended. My friend Valentina runs a restaurant, though. And she’s married to Luca Benetti. Maybe you’ve?—”

“I’ve heard of him. And is she running this restaurant now?”

“Well, no.” I brushed dirt off my gloves. “They’re honeymooning in Catanzaro.”

Carlo held out his hand as if to say, there you go.

“She’s coming back,” I said, though it sounded weak. “They’re splitting the year between there and here.”

“If you say so,” he said, then walked away to get more samples.

Minutes later, I couldn’t get this conversation out of my head. Another reason to remember this was just sex with Vito. I wasn’t giving up my independence to become a mob wife. No, thank you.

But this made me think about Val. Was she coming back? I didn’t have many friends and it would sting to lose one, especially my best friend. Whipping off one glove, I used my thumb to unlock my phone and pull up my text thread with Val.

Hey! How’s it going? You still alive over there?

Almost instantly, a photo of her well-manicured toes filled my screen, a pool in the background. The sun was shining as if to say fuck you to the gray sky looming over my head. I felt a little sick. Who in their right mind would leave that paradise to come back here?

Looks nice. Have a good time!

You really need to visit

We’d have so much fun here

Luca’s pool is the BOMB

I feel like a queen

I sent a thumbs up. I couldn’t think of what else to say.

As the wife of a mafia king, she was a queen.

Why would she ever give that up to come back to this shit hole town and work for a living?

She hadn’t loved the restaurant; she took it over when her mom got sick.

It was more of a duty for her, a responsibility.

Not a calling. Not like me with the vineyard.

I could never give this up. These vines were rooted deep in my heart, the dirt a very part of me.

Putting my phone away, I went back to my task.

I didn’t need anyone else’s voice in my head today.

I had enough to worry about. If Val never came back, so be it.

We’d end up as texting buddies and then slowly leave each other on read, taking days to respond until that turned into weeks.

Then it would be the “oh my god, we haven’t talked in so long!

Can we catch up one of these days?” type messages.

I went back to my text threads. My friend Sam and I liked to share videos, usually of the hot shirtless men variety. I typed:

Hey. I know you’re busy at the café but let’s hang out soon

Three dots appeared right away, telling me she was responding. Surprising that she was on her phone and not making iced coffees and lattes. Mornings were her busiest time.

YES PLEASE

Tonight?

I NEEEEEED a night out

I smiled. Sam lived with her grandmother and ran the Leaning Tower of Pastries in town.

Yes! I’m ready

OK I can be to you by 5:30

Perfect. Meet me in the tasting room. We’ll pick out wine

She sent an octopus heart-eyed emoji. God, Sam was weird, but I loved her.

I started to put my phone away, then realized I had an Italian mob boss expecting me over at six. Pulling up our chat, I texted,

Hanging out with my friend tonight

Can’t come over

When there was no immediate response, I slid my cell back in my jacket pocket. Carlo came over and dumped dirt in our bucket, then pointed to the vines. “When was the last time you tested the petioles?”

Tissue testing was expensive, more costly than soil sampling. “My dad did it five years ago.”

He nodded as if this was what he expected. “I’d like to see those reports.”

“Of course. Does something look off?”

“It is a feeling. I won’t know for sure until I can get some samples during the bloom.”

My ears started buzzing. That was months away. “But what do you suspect?”

“I don’t like to speculate, signorina. I’m a scientist and I work with facts.”

“But?”