Page 52 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

twenty-two

. . .

Maggie

I woke up to an empty bed. Again.

Vito had a bad habit of not waking me up in the mornings. By the feel of his cold sheets, he’d been up for some time. I checked my phone on the nightstand. It was seven-thirty, which was late but not horrifically late.

I rolled over and stretched, my muscles protesting as I moved. Mostly, my backside was sore. But everything about last night had been perfect. I was a goner.

“Everything about you matters to me.”

I fingered the diamond necklace he gave me and accepted defeat. Somewhere along the line I fell in love with this dangerous, smart and steady man. Most people would say it was a bad idea, but right now he felt like the best thing in my entire life. I couldn’t ever remember being this happy.

I trudged into the bathroom and spent a few minutes getting ready. At some point Vito had brought in my clean clothes and laid them out for me on the counter. He really thought of everything. Did anything ever catch this man off-guard or surprise him?

I dug around in my cosmetics bag for a tube of ointment for my lips.

While searching, I brushed an old tube of lipstick out of the way.

Then I paused, an idea popping into my head.

Sometimes it was hard for me to express love or affection for other people.

My therapist once said it was because love frightened me, especially after losing both of my parents, and we were often reluctant to do things we feared.

But I wasn’t afraid anymore. This man understood me. My attitude as a defense mechanism didn’t scare him. And after last night, I trusted Vito to take care of my heart.

On impulse, I grabbed the tube and uncapped it. Dark red. Perfect. I wrote him a note on the bathroom mirror, one that would make my feelings for him perfectly clear. It was silly, but concise.

Smiling, I collected my things and went into the bedroom.

There weren’t any messages on my phone and the emails could wait.

Still, as much as I’d like to hang out and see more of Toronto, I did need to get back to Paesano.

With the Red Blotch and winter promotions, there was a lot going on at the winery.

I took my overnight bag downstairs. Vito was in the kitchen, fully dressed and sitting at the island, his back to me. When I set my bag down, he looked over his shoulder. He hadn’t shaved yet and wore his glasses. Then he gave me a rare lopsided grin that melted my heart. “Buongiorno, amore.”

More with the amore . God, he was killing me.

I went over and gave him a kiss. “Morning, bello. Have you been up long?”

“About an hour. I wanted to let you sleep.” Hand squeezing my hip, he rose. “Sit. I’ll make you a cappuccino.”

I would never turn one down one of his cappuccinos, so I did as he ordered. “What time are we going back this morning?”

“Would you like to stay and see more of the city?”

I hated to be a buzzkill, but I hadn’t planned to be away even one night, let alone more. “Another time, maybe. I really need to get back.”

He started the espresso machine brewing, then went to the refrigerator for milk. “I figured you might say as much. We’re scheduled to depart in an hour and a half.”

My man, always prepared. “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing, forget it.” Content to watch him, I propped my chin in my hands and stared at his back as he moved.

I envisioned a lifetime of mornings like this, quiet with just the two of us.

Cappuccinos and sunshine, warm showers and lingering kisses.

I wanted it so badly, craved that steady existence with my whole heart.

This man would be at the center of it. And the winery, of course.

How those pieces fit together wasn’t exactly clear, but no doubt Vito could come up with a plan.

He set the cup in front of me, his keen gaze taking in my expression. “What are you thinking about?”

I picked up the cappuccino and cradled it in my palms. I wasn’t ready to discuss our future, so I said, “Thank you for last night.”

Placing his elbows on the counter, he leaned over. “You are very welcome, angelo mio.”

Impulsively, I set my cup down and lunged over the bar to kiss him.

The awkward position prevented the kiss from deepening, but I didn’t care.

I just needed my mouth on his for an extended period of time.

His big palm cradled my jaw, while his warm breath—coffee and mint—mingled with mine.

His lips were plush velvet, soft against my mouth, and I was happy to exist in this little bubble with him forever.

“That was nice,” he murmured as we pulled apart. “You are making me rethink our flight schedule.”

I gasped in mock horror. “And change your plans?”

“Are you making fun of me, bella?” He came around the bar and I could see the humor lurking behind his glasses. “Because I can still punish you and fly back at the same time.”

I grabbed his belt and dragged him closer. “Promise?”

Growling, he bent to kiss me again, and I offered up everything I was thinking and feeling, everything I had stored inside me, through that kiss.

All my hopes, all my dreams. Every bit of love I’d buried.

I gave it all to him without fear, without resistance.

My heart belonged to this man. I wouldn’t tell him with words, but I wanted him to know.

He gave me a few more kisses, like he was reluctant to stop, then he sighed and straightened. “Maybe I will help you join the mile high club on the way back.”

My lower half clenched, perking up at the idea. “Won’t your men know we’re having sex?”

Letting me go, he returned to his seat and coffee. “Does this bother you?”

Not as much as it probably should. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this by now, but I’m not exactly shy.”

His eyebrows climbed dramatically above the top of his glasses. “No. I don’t believe you.”

I nudged him with my shoulder. “Shut up.”

The phone in his hand began buzzing. “Perdonami,” he murmured.

“I must take this. Pronto.” He listened to whoever was on the other end.

I sipped my cappuccino and unlocked my own phone, pretending to read online gossip as I wondered about the message upstairs on the mirror.

Would he see it today before we left, or at some point when we returned?

I wanted to plan a long visit here, maybe a three-day weekend?—

Vito went stiff beside me, his furious voice cracking like a whip. “Che cazzo?”

I winced. I felt sorry for whoever had pissed him off.

A long, heated exchange transpired. I recognized some of the curse words, but that was about it.

Vito slapped the marble bar with his palm.

I started, surprised by the loud noise, and he immediately reached to rub my back soothingly.

Deciding to give him privacy, I got up and wandered away to explore the first floor a bit.

There was a bar near the long sofas that I hadn’t noticed last night, and I was curious what Vito stocked here.

Mostly Italian wine, I discovered. That made sense. Then a familiar bottle caught my attention. Was this . . . ? Yep, it was one and the same. There was a bottle of the New Orleans bourbon-whiskey I bought for Vito in the casino bar.

I bit my lip, ridiculously pleased by this small thing. Did he think of me when he sipped it?

“Mi dispiace, angelo,” Vito called before he stalked over to the back hallway and shouted, “ Andiamo, raggazi! ”

We were leaving, I guess.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “What happened?”

He grabbed our coats off the hooks by the door. “We need to return immediately.”

I went over and he helped me into my coat. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Cesare and Adelmo came hurrying from the hall, bags in their hands. Vito pointed to my overnight bag and gave them instructions. “I can carry my own bag,” I protested when Adelmo came over to get it.

“Let the men get it.” Vito motioned for me to hurry through the front door, so I didn’t argue.

Soon we were all packed into the elevator and no one spoke.

I took a peek at Vito and marveled at the change in him.

A switch had flipped. This was the mafia boss, the criminal who got pissed just before heads started to roll.

I didn’t want our time in Toronto to be ruined.

This had been too perfect to let some petty mafia crap bring down the vibes.

Reaching over, I took his hand in mine and held it.

He didn’t react right away, seemingly lost in his thoughts, but then his grip tightened, his hold firm. I squeezed and he squeezed back.

My anxiety eased a bit after that. Everything was fine. He would tell me what was going on as soon as we were alone.

During the drive to the airport, he made a few calls. I didn’t care. He still held my hand the whole time, like he needed that small connection to me, so I let him work and looked through my phone absently. I was surprised to see a text from Val pop up.

HEY! WHERE ARE YOU

I wrinkled my nose. I didn’t want to tell her about Vito, about the trip. It seemed a conversation best had in person, to be honest. Falling in love with a mafia boss who won your winery in a poker game wasn’t really news you dropped via text to your best friend.

I turned my phone off.

We were about to fly anyway. I’d call Val when Vito and I landed in Paesano.

For the rest of the drive, I stared out the window and listened to the deep rumblings of Vito’s voice. I would need to learn some Italian. Starting with whatever he liked to whisper in my ear when he was inside of me.

The jet was ready and waiting when we boarded. The same attendant greeted us and it wasn’t long before we were in the air. During takeoff, Vito huddled in the rear of the jet, talking with his men, while I gripped the armrests of my seat and tried to remain upbeat about our survival rate.

Vito returned when the plane leveled off. “Perdonami,” he said again, kissing the back of my hand after he peeled it off the armrest. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”