Page 39 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

seventeen

. . .

Maggie

The snow started falling hard around eight-thirty.

Dots of thick white flakes obscured the windows as I stared out into the darkness.

Sam left about forty-five minutes ago. Shortly after, she texted to say she was safe at home, snuggled under a blanket and watching Bridgerton reruns with her grandmother and Roberto.

So, where was Vito? Was he out driving in this? Nibbling on my thumbnail, I stared at my phone. He hadn’t texted to check in. Should I text him? Or was that too couple-y?

I already touched base with Mikey and Massimo. They shut down the dining room when the snow started and sent everyone home, and Carlo was safe at the B&B after driving the samples to Cornell. Other than Vito, no one else was out in this storm.

But he wasn’t my responsibility. He was a grown-ass man. If he was stupid enough to get caught in this storm, then that was on him. Right?

So why was I staring out of the window and worrying about him like some 1950s housewife? It felt a little too pathetic for my liking.

I went to the kitchen and found my glass of wine. I had nothing to worry about here. We still had power and a backup generator standing by. Plenty of food, thanks to Vito’s stocked fridge and Massimo’s dinner delivery. And I had water and wine. What else did I need to wait out a storm?

Taking my drink over to the new sofa, I sat and turned on the big screen TV. I pulled up a streaming service and navigated to my favorite anime show, then dragged the fluffy throw blanket over me. Was this blanket new? I didn’t remember it, but it seemed crazy that Vito would bother to accessorize.

The episodes blurred one after the other. I paused a few times for breaks, like for more wine and to use the bathroom. I found bags of microwave popcorn and made one. The snow was accumulating outside in drifts, along the door and around the window panes. I checked my messages.

Still nothing.

Cool, cool. I wasn’t worried about him and he clearly wasn’t worried about me.

Returning to the couch, I munched on popcorn and turned the show back on. It took place in Imperial China and there was an apothecary who used her skills to solve mysteries. I was obsessed.

Two episodes later, I looked at my phone again. No texts.

Hmm. It wouldn’t hurt to see if there were any major traffic accidents in the area, would it? I pulled up the news and scrolled, searching for any information I could find. Nope, nothing.

Maybe Maz had heard from his brother. I could keep the conversation casual and hopefully not come across like a psycho stalker.

Everything ok over there?

Dots immediately appeared as he typed his response.

Tell my brother to calm down

I’M FINE

Ah, so Maz thought Vito was with me. I didn’t want to worry him, so I sent back a thumbs up.

The flakes fell faster now, a white blur going past the windows.

There would be little to no visibility on the roads and I couldn’t take it anymore.

This was ridiculous. And inconsiderate. Vito orders me to be here, then he can’t be bothered to check in, even during a terrible storm? What a fucking prick.

I pulled up our earlier text exchange.

I’m ok in case you were wondering

Hope you aren’t dead in a ditch somewhere

No response. I tossed my phone on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch, then restarted my show.

I tried not to look outside.

A little while later, without warning, the door to the deck flew open. A large figure in a long overcoat stumbled in, snow clinging to every surface.

Holy shit . It was Vito.

The knot in my stomach eased as I sat up, watching as he closed the door behind him. He was moving awkwardly, stiffly as he unbuttoned his overcoat. Was he frozen solid? “Did you get my texts?” I asked.

When he turned, I saw a tear in his sweater, right along his ribs. The edges were stained red. What the fuck? Was that . . . blood?

I was off the couch in a flash and moving closer to get a better look. “Are you hurt? What happened to you?”

He held up his hand. “I’m fine. A scratch.”

“That looks like more than a scratch.”

He started to take his overcoat off, but then winced. I jumped into action, pulling the sides of the coat off his shoulders and down his arms. He hissed when the wool dragged along his wound. “Sorry,” I apologized as I hung up his coat to dry.

Then he was there, in my space, with one hand coming up to hold my jaw.

There was pain reflected in his eyes, but also something else.

Something I hadn’t seen before. Without saying anything he lowered his head and pressed his cold lips to mine, and we kissed for a long minute.

No tongue, just the simple brush of our lips over and over again.

This kiss wasn’t filled with passion or excitement—it was filled with relief . Gratitude. Comfort.

Finally, he pulled back and whispered, “You have no fucking idea how happy I am to find you here, angioletto mio.”

I swallowed heavily, my chest fluttering. “Baby, you’re wet. And bloody. Let’s get you into a shower to warm up.”

“Only if you come with me.”

I nodded and reached out to help him. He shook his head. “I’m fine. It stings, but I’m okay.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. I wanted to take a look at his wound and see what kind of care he needed. I went up the stairs, Vito right behind me. Once in the bathroom I started the shower as he tried to toe off his dress shoes. He winced with every movement.

Taking pity on him, I bent down and unknotted the frozen laces. “We really need to get you a pair of boots.”

When his shoes were off, I peeled off his wet socks, then unbuckled his trousers.

He rested against the counter, silent, and let me undress him.

I could feel his gaze watching me carefully as I slid his trousers off his hips and down his legs.

I didn’t stop to admire him, because his olive skin had turned so pale. Cold? Pain? Both?

Steam filled the room as I rose to deal with his sweater.

He’d already taken off his watch, so I worked the fabric off his good side, leaving the injured side for last. I lifted the bloody fabric off his ribs, but he didn’t so much as twitch.

I got the sweater over his head and off his other arm.

A large gash on his ribs oozed blood. “What happened?”

“Let’s get in the hot water.”

An evasion, a Vito special. I shoved his briefs off, letting them fall to his feet, and he stepped out of them.

I put him into the shower, then quickly undressed myself.

When I closed the glass door behind me, I found him under the spray, leaning against the tile, eyes closed.

The color had returned to his skin, which I found encouraging, but blood was tinting the water as it ran across the tile. Not so encouraging.

“You may need stitches,” I told him, peering at the wound. It looked jagged and angry but, as the blood washed away to reveal the skin underneath, maybe it wasn’t as bad as I first thought.

“It’s nothing,” he repeated.

“Vito, it’s not life-threatening, but it’s not nothing either.”

He cracked one eye. “It’s a scrape. The car slid off the road and into a snow drift. I was helping to push it out and injured myself on a fence.”

“You shouldn’t have been driving in this! What’s wrong with you? Do you have a death wish?”

“No. I wanted to get back here. To you.”

I gaped at him. I didn’t know what to say.

One large hand reached out to cup the back of my neck and tug me closer. “We were already halfway here when the snow started falling in earnest. I told them to keep going. I didn’t want you alone here in the storm.”

My insides melted into a pile of jelly. This man was so infuriating, but also so sweet. “Vito . . . ” I whispered his name like a long, soft sigh as I kissed his chin. “Mio dolce bello,” I tried, piecing together words I knew.

His fingertips pressed harder into my skin and he gave me a sexy half-grin. “ Il mio dolce bell’uomo ,” he corrected.

“Il mio dolce bell’uomo,” I repeated clumsily.

My terrible pronunciation didn’t seem to bother him.

He twisted us so my back was up against the tile and his shoulders blocked the hot water, then he captured my mouth.

I forgot about his injury as I kissed him back, clinging, my head spinning in the warm mist, and an ache settled deep in my belly.

His tongue trailed the seam of my lips then pushed inside, flicking, stroking mine, his body looming over me.

It was crazy how easily this man turned me on.

He braced his hands on the wall above me, his lips trailing down my jaw, along my neck. “Were you worried about me?” he rasped before sinking his teeth into my skin.

“No,” I lied, then reached down to caress his semi-hard cock.

“Cazzata.” He licked the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Keep tugging my cock. You’re making me feel better.”

Oh, right. His wound. I glanced down to make sure he was okay. Blood slid down his body and gathered with the droplets of water around his groin. He was fully hard now, his erection coated red, as was my hand. “Vito, shit.”

“Are you scared of a little blood, bella?”

“No, of course not.” I’d seen more injuries than I could count over the years at the winery.

“Then don’t stop.” He put his hand on top of mine and we stroked together. “It feels so good.”

Red-tinted water ran over his dick and our hands as he slid through my grip. My clit pulsed. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything so wrong, so deviant—so hot —in my life. He was bleeding all over the both of us. “Where did you go today?”

“To pick up my sister from JFK.”

I paused, this news settling like spoiled wine. Why hadn’t I known this? “You have a sister? And she’s here?”

“Yes and yes.” He rocked his hips once impatiently. “Finish me with hard, short strokes.”

“Maybe I’m not ready to finish you yet.” I reached with my other hand to cup his balls, pulling gently. He grunted in response, eyelashes fluttering as a tremor went through him.