Page 13

CHAPTER 12

G iulia

The scale of Lorenzo’s operation here at Casa di Lupo is impressive, but it’s not the volume of wine they produce that blows me away. It’s his obvious interest in everything that goes on I admire. As we walked through the winery, he greeted every person we encountered by name and, in some cases, he asked after their families. His staff seem to respect him, but I detected an undercurrent of fear. I guess there’s no escaping a reputation like his even when he’s presenting his affable face to the world.

Lorenzo reminds me of Matteo. They’re both younger brothers in branches of a prominent mafia family. Too handsome for their own good, they both have an effortless charm that masks the type of men they actually are. Perhaps that makes me a bad person, but I was raised in this life. I may not approve of what our men do, but it doesn’t stop me liking Matteo, or his equally brutal cousin.

Lorenzo’s knowledge of the wine-making process is incredible. From harvesting the grapes to clarifying and bottling the wine, he understands each step. As we toured the winery, he described the modern methods they use for pressing the grapes—no trampling them with bare feet these days. He talked about fermentation, the importance of getting temperatures right. To be honest, he lost me there, but he spoke with such confidence I’m sure he knew exactly what he was talking about.

After showing me the huge stainless-steel vats where the wine is made, he and Damiano took me to an enormous, vaulted cellar deep beneath the warehouse where the wine is stored in oak barrels until it’s ready to be bottled. There were more barrels than I could count. Lorenzo is also experimenting with ancient techniques, using clay amphora to create a softer, fruitier wine. His passion for the subject was infectious.

While Lorenzo played host, his older brother said little, but more than once, I caught him watching me intently. It was unnerving to deal with the scrutiny without Matteo to lend me some support.

“Thank you for showing me around,” I tell Lorenzo as we reach the last stop, a tasting room overlooking the lush green vineyard.

The room is decorated like I imagine a posh gentleman’s club would be. There’s an air of exclusivity about it. The walls, painted in a rich green tone, are adorned with paintings of the Italian landscape. High-backed leather chairs are dotted around the room. Over to one side is a long wooden table that has an open bottle of wine and several glasses on it. I feel out of place here. There should be a sign over the door— No Peasants Allowed .

“It was my pleasure,” Lorenzo says. “Now, would you like to sample our new Chianti?”

Although I sobered up considerably during our walk around the winery, I’m not sure it would be wise to drink another drop. I’m going to the club with Rosalia later and I can’t be drunk before I even leave the house. I don’t want to risk appearing rude, though, and it’s not just because Lorenzo is Matteo’s cousin. He’s not a man I’d want to offend.

“A small taste, perhaps.”

Lorenzo grins, then goes to the bar at the side of the room. He pours a small measure of wine into a glass and brings it to me.

“You’re not having some?” I ask.

A look I can’t decipher passes between Lorenzo and his brother. It makes me uneasy. Why aren’t they having some?

“We know what it tastes like.” Lorenzo’s response does nothing to relieve the anxiety crawling up my spine.

Nervous, I glance over my shoulder toward the door. The bottle was open when we came into the room. They could have instructed one of their men to slip something into it. I don’t know why they would, but I worry about why neither of them is drinking. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. Where is Matteo? He should have caught up with us by now. My mind races with disturbing possibilities. What if the Italian branch of the family intends to take out the Americans?

“Something wrong?” Lorenzo tilts his head to the side as he studies me, his trademark smile firmly in place.

“I… eh…” I’m being silly. As far as I know, the brothers are close to their American cousins. They have no reason to harm Matteo and even less to poison me.

“We didn’t spike your drink,” Damiano says wryly.

“Isn’t that what someone who had drugged my drink would say?”

Damiano laughs. “I don’t know. I don’t go around drugging women.”

“You’d better not start with my woman.”

A wave of relief washes over me as Matteo saunters into the room with his sister.

“What’s going on?” Livvy asks, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Lorenzo wants Giulia to sample his new Chianti, but she seems to think we’ve poisoned it.” The sardonic tone in Damiano’s voice makes me feel like a total fool for harboring any suspicions. I raise the glass to my lips.

“You’re not meant to drink it straight away,” Livvy advises. “You need to assess the color and clarity first.”

Doing as she suggests, I hold the glass up to the light and study the wine carefully.

“Well?” Lorenzo prompts.

“It’s red.” Damn, I feel like an idiot. I have no idea what I’m looking for. “Dark red.”

“And the clarity?” Lorenzo doesn’t try to conceal the amusement in his voice.

“Well, there are no bits floating in it if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Now the aroma.” Livvy crosses the room and perches on the windowsill.

I tentatively sniff the air over my glass.

“No, get your nose in there!” Livvy scolds. “Get a good sniff of the stuff, but don’t snort it.”

Livvy isn’t even old enough to drink alcohol back home, but she seems to know what she’s talking about, so I follow her instructions.

“Well?” Livvy asks. “What are you picking up?”

Lowering the glass, I shrug helplessly. “It’s strong and fruity, like wine.”

Lorenzo throws his head back and laughs. “Ah, Giulia, you are refreshing.”

I suspect he means uncultured, but I’m not about to call him out for it.

“Just drink it.” Matteo puts a protective arm around my waist. “This tasting bullshit means nothing. All that matters is if you like it or not.”

Lorenzo staggers back, a hand to his chest as he pretends to be wounded by the remark. “People pay good money to come to our wine tastings.”

“You charge people to smell your wine?” With Matteo’s reassuring presence, I feel bolder. “You really are the mafia.”

For a moment there’s silence, and I worry I’ve misjudged the Volantes’ sense of humor. Then Damiano and Lorenzo both laugh. Livvy snorts in amusement and Matteo drops a kiss on the top of my head as he squeezes me tight.

“I like her.” Lorenzo pats Matteo on the shoulder as he walks past us. “Let me know what you think of the wine, Giulia. If you enjoy it, I’ll bring a case to your wedding.”

It’s a bit soon to be talking about weddings, but he’s gone before I can say that. Damiano and Livvy follow him from the room and I wonder if Matteo gave them some signal to leave. He goes to the door and shuts it behind them. Then he comes to me and runs the back of his fingers down my cheek.

“Did you have fun with my cousins?”

“The tour was interesting, but they probably think I’m a peasant.”

“Because you’re not a wine connoisseur?”

I nod. “Yeah, I mean this place is great, but I’ve never really been into wine.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. They don’t give a shit if you can detect notes of blackberry or whatever. They just wanted to see what you’re made of.”

“I know.” For most of the tour I had the feeling my every gesture was being studied. “They were very charming, especially Lorenzo.”

“Is that right? You found Lorenzo charming?”

There’s a note of jealousy in Matteo’s voice I should pay attention to, but I don’t.

“Yes, I like him.”

“Oh, you do?” Something dark and dangerous glitters in Matteo’s eye. He isn’t playing so I don’t push him. He reaches out suddenly and grabs my throat, making me squeal in fright. Then he backs me against the wall. “How much do you like my cousin?”

“Not as much as I like you.” I place my hand on his chest. Heat spreads through me as the hard muscles flex beneath my palm.

“No?” Matteo slides his hand beneath my dress and cups my feminine mound. “He doesn’t turn you on?”

“Of course not.”

My heart races as he drags my panties to the side. A groan of pleasure escapes me as he slides his finger along the length of my pussy. I’ve been wet and ready for him since the moment he pushed me against the wall.

“You’re drenched, sweetheart.” He circles my clit with the tip of his finger. His touch is almost imperceptible. I grind my hips against his hand, trying to capture the tingling sensation and bring myself closer to the edge. “Is that for him?”

Matteo’s expression is indecipherable. I can’t tell if he actually thinks I’m attracted to his cousin or if he’s just trying to make me admit that he’s the only man who can drive me crazy with a mere touch.

“It’s for you.” I pant with need as he finally puts pressure on my clit, causing it to pulse beneath his fingertip.

“You sure?” Matteo tilts his head to one side as he studies my expression. “It’s not for some charming Italian?”

Oh, fuck, he is really pissed about me saying I liked Lorenzo.

“It’s for you, Matty.” I cry out as he shoves two fingers inside me, the sudden violence of it stealing the breath from my lungs. “Only for you.”

“This mouth is mine.” He tightens his grip on my throat. It’s a possessive gesture, rather than one intended to hurt me. He leans in and kisses me, his tongue sweeping past my lips. Black spots dance before my eyes as he fucks me savagely with his fingers.

“Yes,” I groan as he pulls back, relaxing the hand he has at my throat, but not releasing me completely from his hold.

He curls his fingers to stroke the most sensitive spot inside me. My hips rock forward as I instinctively try to grab hold of the sensations threatening to spark a fire at my core.

“This cunt is mine.”

The crudeness of the declaration sends a surge of desire through me. I never really liked that word, but coming from Matteo’s lips, I find it thrilling.

“Matty!”

“And your ass?”

He bends to nip the base of my neck with his teeth. Why is that so fucking erotic? I moan as my arousal ramps up.

“Will you give that to me too?”

My eyes widen in surprise. “What, now?”

Matteo chuckles. “No, not now. You’d need some preparation before I take you.”

Anal has never been something I craved, but I know Matteo would make it good for me. “Oh, then yes.”

“Good girl.” His obvious approval makes my cheeks heat. Who knew I’d have a thing for praise? It seems Matteo is teaching me a lot about myself.

Removing his hand from my throat, Matteo unfastens his pants, loosening his clothing just enough to let his rampant erection spring free. It’s an impressive sight, but I don’t have time to admire his raw, masculine beauty. He lifts my leg up and to the side, spreading me wide for him. He withdraws his fingers from my pussy and immediately replaces them with his cock. With an ecstatic moan, I let my head fall back against the wall as he pushes all the way into me.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs. “Describe it.”

There’s only one word that comes to mind right now. “Full.”

“And when I fuck you?”

He slowly slides almost all the way out of me and holds himself there, waiting for my response.

“Incredible.”

“Damn right it’s incredible.” He curves a hand around my breast and squeezes tight. Even through my dress I can feel the searing heat of his touch. “Now, beg me to fuck you.”

I don’t hesitate to do as he asked. With his cock teasing my entrance, holding pleasure just out of reach, there’s no room for pride.

“Please, Matteo. Fuck me.” I grasp his shoulders as he presses his hips forward, entering me one inch at a time. “Please. I need you.”

Bracing himself with his hands on the walls, he leans down to capture my lips in a searing kiss as his rigid shaft fills me. When he breaks the kiss, the strength of the desire in his eyes almost stops my heart. He wants me as much as I want him. The way he fucks me proves it. There’s a desperation in the fast and furious pace he sets. I try to match his rhythm, but it’s impossible to do anything but hold on and enjoy the ride.

He grabs my leg and lifts it around his waist, changing the angle of his thrusts. He slides in and out, stimulating each nerve in my sensitive flesh and bringing me close to the brink of madness.

“Beg me to make you come,” Matteo growls.

“Please, Matteo.”

He shakes his head, and a strand of chestnut hair falls over his eye. “Not Matteo.”

It takes me a second to realize what he wants. He craves the intimacy of the name only I use for him. “Please, Matty.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Grinning, he slips his hand between my legs and unerringly finds my clit. I anticipate him caressing me until I tip over the edge so I’m startled when he pinches the throbbing bud hard instead. A jolt of pain travels through me, twisting into something intensely pleasurable as it hurtles toward my core.

Overcome by a wave of ecstasy, I buck my hips, drawing Matteo deeper inside me. As his cock swells, my body clamps down, milking everything from him as he spills his seed.

“Giulia!” There’s such raw emotion in the way he speaks my name, I come close to tears.

Flinging my arms around his neck, I cling to Matteo as my entire body shakes with the force of my orgasm. The warmth of his body, his strength as he returns my embrace, anchors me to the here and now.

When I finally release him, he carefully pulls out of me. Semen trickles down my thigh, bringing a stark reality into focus. This is not the first time I’ve been carried away in the heat of the moment with this man.

“We didn’t use protection.” I shake my head in exasperation. “Again.”

A slight crease at the bridge of his nose is the only sign of Matteo’s concern as he adjusts his clothing. “You’re not on the pill?”

“Yes, well, no, not the pill. I get a shot, but…” How can I phrase this? I don’t want to sound as if I’m accusing him of putting me at risk. It’s something I should have mentioned when we had sex before, but I was so distracted by him, I completely forgot.

Matteo cups my cheek. “I’ve never fucked without a condom.”

“You haven’t?” Surprise makes my voice an octave higher than usual.

“No, I haven’t, sweetheart. This is a first for me.” He gazes down at me as if in awe about what’s happening between us. “Everything about this is a first.”

“Yes,” I agree, “for me too.”

Matteo bends to capture my lips. His kiss is tender, but imbued with so much emotion I can hardly breathe. When he steps back, I miss the contact. I quickly pull my panties back into place and smooth down my skirt.

“Come on.” Matteo holds his hand out to me. “You need to get ready for your big night out before I change my mind about letting you go and chain you to my bed instead.”

A frisson of excitement brings goosebumps to my arms. I suddenly wish I hadn’t agreed to meet Rosalia because the idea of being chained to Matteo’s bed is unexpectedly appealing.