Page 42 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

eighteen

. . .

Maggie

The bed was cold when I woke up.

Slivers of light rimmed the edges of the blackout shades Vito had installed, so it was obviously daytime. Reaching, I grabbed my phone to check the time. Shit! It was almost nine. Why’d he let me sleep this late? I didn’t like to deviate from my routine, if I could help it.

Rolling out of bed, I found my laundry, clean and folded, on the nightstand. Damn, I’d missed watching Vito fold it.

I stretched the aches out of my muscles in the bathroom.

That man had worn me out last night. After dinner he gave me superlative oral, then another orgasm as he fucked me in all the various positions.

He should’ve been exhausted, considering his drive and injury and hand job, but his dick had been unstoppable.

After I brushed my teeth and got dressed, I grabbed my phone and started for the stairs. Was he drinking cappuccino and working? I hoped he was wearing his glasses. I might have to give him a blow job, if that were the case.

Multiple voices reached my ears when my foot hit the top step. Oh. Was someone here with him? I couldn’t tell what was being said. Then I heard a woman laugh. Loudly.

Who was that? Celeste? No, that wasn’t what Celeste’s laugh sounded like. I kept going, determined to find out what was happening.

As I descended the stairs, their words became clearer and I realized they were speaking Italian.

When I finally reached the bottom I froze, my mind taking in the scene.

A gorgeous dark-haired woman stood in the kitchen with Vito and Massimo, a cappuccino cup in her hand.

She was tall, late twenties maybe, with flawless olive skin and eyebrows sculpted to perfection.

Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, which accented the hollows of her cheekbones, and her lips had to be cosmetically enhanced.

No way they were naturally so full and lush.

Paloma. The sister. I’d totally forgotten about her.

“Hi,” I said as they all glanced over. “I’m Maggie. You must be Paloma.”

“Ciao, Maggie,” the would-be model said as she put out her hand. “It is nice to meet you. Maz has told me many nice things about you.”

Maz, not Vito.

I licked my boring, plain lips as I shook her hand. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

Vito’s palm settled on my back and he rubbed me gently. “Would you like a cappuccino, bella?”

“Um, sure.”

He moved to the fancy machine and I stood there, not sure what to do or say. This wasn’t awkward. Nope, not at all. Vito and Maz had a sister—a beautiful, glamorous sister—who was now inside the cottage at my winery. I was surrounded by D’Agostinos.

And Paloma was everything Carlo said mafia women were like. Trophies, gorgeous enough to show off and make other men jealous. My jeans, hoodie and baseball hat weren’t exactly on par with her sleek, designer trousers and sweater. And she was wearing heels. In the snow.

This was the type of woman Vito would end up with.

I tried not to feel deflated.

No one spoke as Vito made the cappuccino.

“How was the food last night?” Massimo finally asked.

I latched onto the topic eagerly. “So good. Thank you for bringing it out to us.”

“Prego. I’m glad you were safe here with my brother during the storm.”

Vito handed me a cappuccino and I accepted it gratefully. “Thank you.” When he started to turn, I grabbed his arm. “How is your wound this morning?”

“Wound!” Massimo barked. “Che cazzo? You are hurt?”

Vito snapped something in Italian to his brother, and this caused both of his siblings to frown.

Paloma put her cup down on the marble. She gestured to his shirt, clearly giving him orders of some kind.

Vito argued, expression darkening, and I felt even more foolish.

He clearly hadn’t wished for anyone to know about his wound and I’d inadvertently spilled the beans.

The arguments in their language continued and my awkwardness compounded. All three of them forgot about me as their family drama played out. I listened, but it became increasingly clear that these people didn’t want or need me here.

I had to give Paloma credit. She didn’t seem like the type to give up or back down. As if to prove my point, she smacked Vito’s hands out of the way, then lifted up his t-shirt. She hissed through her teeth. “Idiota,” I heard her say.

I glanced out the window, the white landscape filling my vision.

There were times when I was surrounded by people but felt incredibly lonely.

This was one of those moments. My therapist once said it was because I kept myself emotionally disconnected from others.

I didn’t know if that was true or not, but it sucked to feel like an outsider looking in. Was I jealous of their family dynamic?

Maybe a tiny bit. But really, why was I here? I wasn’t Vito’s girlfriend or wife. I wasn’t part of this family. As nice as everything was last night, I couldn’t forget the truth, even as something inside me broke at the thought.

Paloma and Massimo were still examining Vito’s bandage, while he grumbled at them. I was dying to see for myself, but he was in good hands. I’m not needed. He doesn’t need me. I couldn’t even understand what they were saying.

Setting down my cup, I went looking for my boots.

“Maggie, che cosa?” Vito said loudly. “What are you doing?”

“I should get going.” I drew on my boots as quickly as I could manage, not even bothering to tie them. “Lots to do, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” He came toward me, his mouth tight and unhappy. “I heard from Michael and he said everything is fine in the main buildings. There’s nothing pressing at the moment.”

“Well, I’d like to see for myself. Besides, you should catch up with your family.”

“I’d like for you to stay. Drink your cappuccino. I’ll?—”

“Don’t pressure her, fratello.” This was from Paloma. “If she needs to leave, let her leave.”

I looked over at Vito’s sister, whose expression was not friendly in the least. Her brown gaze was hard and challenging, like she saw right through me. It was clear she wanted me gone, and the deep chasm between Vito’s life and mine had never felt wider.

I reached for my jacket and felt Vito’s hand on my hip. “Angelo, per favore,” he whispered. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine. There’s just a lot to do after a big storm like this. And you should enjoy being with your siblings.”

“You think I can’t do that with you here?”

That hit a little too close to what I was feeling, so I patted his chest. “That’s not it at all. Listen, we’ll catch up later, okay?”

His hand pressed into my hip as he stared down at me through his sexy glasses. With his rumpled hair and unshaven jaw, he was seriously fucking hot. If we were alone, I would definitely be treating his body like an amusement park ride. But right now, I just wanted to leave.

“See you later,” I said quietly, then broke free of his hold.

“Nice to meet you!” I called. “Bye, Maz.” I slipped out of the door and went into the cold.

Snow crunched beneath my boots as I tugged on my jacket, and I made sure to step in the footprints that Maz and Paloma made earlier.

There had to be at least eight inches of snow on the ground.

My chest felt hollow. Which was silly. So what if Paloma didn’t like me? So what if Vito was going back to Toronto soon, taking his sister with him? So what if I would miss him?

So what if I’d fallen for him and he didn’t love me back?

That was the way the world worked. It wasn’t fair. And often it hurt. One minute you had two loving parents, and the next they were ripped out of your life. Killed in a stupid accident. After that, I never expected candy hearts and balloons.

And this morning had been the reminder I needed.

Vito

Chest tight, I watched Maggie trudge away in the snow. Something was off. Something sent her running away from me. This time, though, I had a good idea what—or who—was responsible.

Turning, I glared at my sister. “Was that necessary?”

Paloma lifted one dark eyebrow. “You were trying to force her to stay when she clearly wanted to leave. I was on her side.”

“You were rude to her.”

Paloma didn’t deny it. Instead, she looked at Maz. “Molto innamorato.” Deeply in love.

“Stai zitto,” I snapped and carried Maggie’s cup over to the sink.

“I told you,” was my brother’s reply.

“Vito,” Paloma said. “She must be strong to be a D’Agostino. If she can’t withstand a little challenge now and again, then she is not the right woman for you.”

I folded my arms and leaned against the counter. “When the time comes, I will decide who is the right woman for me, sorellina . Not you. Not Maz, and certainly not Enzo. Capisce?”

She held up her hands, but there was a secret smile playing at the edges of her lips. “Understood.”

“And you will apologize to her.”

My sister inclined her head and walked over to sit on the stool next to Massimo. “If that is what you want, then yes. I will apologize.”

Massimo covered his mouth with his hand and muttered something under his breath. Paloma nodded in understanding.

“What did you say?” I asked my brother.

Cheerfully, he said, “I told her that you’re going to marry Maggie, so we should be nice to her.”

I rubbed my jaw, wondering why I was cursed with the world’s most annoying siblings. I wasn’t going to marry Maggie, but arguing this seemed pointless. Maz and Paloma would believe whatever they wanted. They always did.

Meeting my sister’s stare, I asked, “Are you ready to hear why I asked you to come?”

She smirked. “I thought it was to meet your fiancée, no?”

I didn’t take the bait. Instead, I pulled open a kitchen drawer where I’d stashed some cigarettes. I quickly lit one and inhaled, my nostrils flaring as I drew the chemicals into my lungs. Exhaling, I felt myself relax ever so slightly. Before I could speak, my sister was pointing at the cigarette.

“Put that out. You’re going to stink up this place.”