Page 84 of Rosetti Family New York

Without a word, I stalk to my walk-in closet. I need a second to breathe, a second to get myself under control. I grab one of my clean t-shirts and toss it to her. She is a terrible catcher, and it drops to the floor behind her. When she bends over to pick it up, she gives me a perfect glimpse of her round ass, and I can see a dark line of dampness on her peach panties. I almost come in my fucking pants. She changes slowly because she knows exactly what it does to me. She’s trying to drive me crazy, and it’s working.

She climbs into my bed, where she belongs, and pulls the covers up like she didn’t just strip in front of me, like she didn’t just take her time doing it. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I stay right where I am. She looks at me. I look at her. This should be easy. I thought it would be. It’s not. Marrying her was supposed to clear away the issue of the Albanians so I could focus on Iride, supposed to make my life simpler.

I have a feeling it won’t. I have a feeling she’ll make it so fucking hard.

6

Besiana

Abright gleam slips between the heavy curtains and splashes across the empty bed. He’s gone, leaving only cold sheets. I spent the night fearing my husband would touch me and wanting it at the same time. He made a mess of my body without even trying. I relieve my sexual tension, working my fingers between my thighs, then I take a long, hot shower. Anything to scrub him from my mind.

I slip back into my own room, avoiding my reflection in the vast and gilded mirrors. Domenico probably wants me to dress like a mafia princess, all sequined miniskirts and fur jackets, but until he commands me to, it’s not strictly required of me. So I change into a dress by Zuhair Murad, one of my favorite designers, a striking black number with geometric cutouts down the sleeves. I feel like myself, like Besiana Dushku instead of the Rosetti wife I'm pretending to be.

I tiptoe out, trying not to let my footfalls echo through this lifeless mansion. The silence is broken when I hear voices downstairs, and I freeze, my instincts screaming to avoid conflict. But I take a breath and make myself head toward thesound, where I meet two of the Rosetti siblings again. I focus on remembering their names, because this family is a test, and failing isn't an option. Carmela, the youngest and the only sister. And Emilio, one of the twins, the quiet one.

“Hey, hon!” Carmela sees me and bounces over with a huge smile. Her wild curls dance with every step. “Look who decided to join us!”

She grabs me by the arm and pulls me to the room’s center, too strong for such a little thing. I wonder if they’re all going to be this fake-friendly. It’s scary in a different way.

I quickly scan the room. It’s just Carmela and Emilio, no other Rosettis are hiding in the corners. I’m not looking for Domenico, obviously. I couldn’t care less where he is. I’m glad he’s not here. He can go off and terrorize somebody else. Carmela is wearing a sweet pink sundress, slouching onto a couch, and I thank God Dom’s not lounging with her. Maybe he’s in the kitchen… I take a few steps and peer around the corner.

A Rosetti brother rounds the corner, almost smacking into me. He’s 6’2” and long-limbed, with a dimpled smile and auburn hair that looks like he’s just run a hand through it.

“Are you looking for Dom?” he asks. “Or did you just come to hang out with me?”

It’s Matteo, the other twin, though they look nothing alike. Matt has a wicked grin, the same one he wore to the wedding, and I can already tell he’s a charmer, a smooth talker. The playboy of the family. Makes a nice change from all the brooding.

“I’m not looking for Dom,” I say, too fast.

Matteo laughs. “That’s lucky because he’s out. Went with Leonardo and Eleanor. On business.” He says the last word slowly like it’s supposed to scare me. “Won’t be back till late.”

“So he’ll be gone all day?” I ask, biting my lip.

“Yep.” Matteo jumps onto the couch next to his sister, flicking her with his fingers. “Thought you’d be glad to get rid of him.”

“I am,” I say.

Definitely. Absolutely. I couldn’t be happier that my new husband left me alone in a house full of my enemies.

Carmela tilts her head, her curls bouncing at the movement. “You don’t look glad.”

“You slept in so long we thought you were dead,” Emilio calls from across the room, leaning back in an armchair.

With his blank expression and understated jeans and hoodie, Emilio almost disappears among all this luxury. Like the rest of them, he’s annoyingly handsome, though unlike his brothers, he seems uninterested in dominating the room.

He’s lounging with the ease of someone who knows everything, and I wonder if he does. If he’s already figured out my secrets. Maybe he’s the one I should be most wary of.

No wonder they call him “the Ghost.”

“Good to know you survived the night, Besiana,” Emilio adds, with a lewd wink.

“I might not survive the day,” I mutter, scanning the room.

The other brothers are too much testosterone and muscle in one place. I’m nervous around Emilio, and Rafe makes me downright queasy. He rounds the corner, striding like he’s on a mission, and when he sees me, he smiles. It’s terrifying.

“Good morning, Besiana,” Rafe says, his voice a low rumble that chills me. He might be polite, but he’s still enormous and intimidating. All that muscle is for breaking things.

“Hi,” I manage to squeak out.