Page 85 of Smut Lovers
Chapter One
A fter a long ass plane ride and three goddamn layovers from Italy to here, I’ve finally arrived.
I rush off the plane, past the people fucking around in the aisle.
I’ve never been so ready to be home. The crowded, noisy airport in Cincinnati has hidden secrets and a smell that singes my nostrils.
I can’t wait to eat some good American French fries and sleep for a week.
I grab my bags from the baggage claim and make my way to the gate, hoping my mother will be there to pick me up; however, after everything that happened in Europe, I doubt she will be.
My arranged marriage to the White Lotus Mafia heir fell through after my piece of shit husband-to-be was caught cheating on me on our wedding day.
I immediately grabbed my shit stayed at a hotel, despite my mother telling me I need to make things work because I need a man to help lead our empire and keep the other mafia families from seeing us as weak once I take over.
After enjoying three months of solo travel around Europe, I flew home last night.
The pickup line comes and goes as I examine the driver of every car, hoping to recognize someone I know.
Still, as sunset draws near, I realize that no one is coming from the estate, despite my sending my mother my flight information before I boarded yesterday.
Pulling out my phone, I open my rideshare app and request a ride, noting the forty-five-minute wait.
Fuck, why is it so fucking busy today? I choose the coffee shop next to the airport as my pickup location and make my way there, deciding I’d instead handle this bullshit fully caffeinated.
I place my order, and the barista begins to make my drink as the line grows behind me.
“Why is it so packed in here?” I ask as she hands me my frozen coffee.
“There’s a business convention in town for a bunch of shareholders for Burnfield executives. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it,” she answers, surprise shining in her blue eyes.
“I’ve been in Italy for a while.”
“Wow! I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. How was it?” The wonder in her eyes stifles my sarcastic comment before I can say it. It’s not her fault I’m jaded.
“It was gorgeous. Make sure you go someday,” I say, taking my drink from her outstretched hand.
I manage to find a small, empty corner and settle in for my wait, opening the reading app on my cell phone.
My cell phone buzzes, interrupting a particularly spicy scene, and frustration gnaws at me.
A notification from the ride-share app appears at the top of my screen, informing me that the driver will arrive in under three minutes.
I stand from my hidden seat, throw my nearly empty cup into the trash, and make my way to the curb just as they arrive.
The ride to the estate is quick and quiet; the driver does his job rather than trying to strike up some half-formed bullshit conversation, and for the first time today, I find myself thankful for something.
The driver pulls into the circular driveway, and I give him a hefty tip as he pulls my bags from the trunk of the car.
He pulls away, leaving me standing in front of the sprawling mansion.
The butler meets me at the door, giving the maid my bags and leading me out to the garden where my mother is waiting.
“Zelena, you’re home. Did you have fun behaving like a child and avoiding your responsibilities?” my mother asks, sitting in her favorite seat by the lake.
“Mother, I’ve missed you too,” I reply coldly, not bothering to hide the bite in my voice the way she did.
“Oh, don’t be petulant. You know I’ve missed you, but you still shouldn’t have run off like that. Antonio was not happy about you breaking the arrangement.”
“Mother, I don’t care how beneficial you feel he would have been, I’m not marrying a man who literally beds another woman on the day we are to be wed. You taught me to have standards,” I argue, crossing my arms.
“Zelena, if it weren’t for your stepbrothers and stepfather forcing me to allow you to do as you wish, you’d be married right now, and not here being naive. You marry whoever benefits us, not whoever makes you happy. I don’t care about your happiness; I only care about this empire.”
A growl of annoyance leaves me, and she raises her brow at me.
“Something to say, child?”
“You and I both know I am the furthest thing from a child. I’m thirty-two for fuck’s sake.”
“Watch your mouth when speaking to me, Zelena. I’ve been lenient while you pout, but my patience is quickly wearing thin.
Your stepbrothers are waiting for you in the office, and your stepfather and I have things to attend to,” she says, standing from her chair and breezing past me as if I haven’t been gone for months.
Sometimes I wonder why she even had me, but then I remember that to her, I am an obligation to carry on our line and nothing more.