Page 19

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

ADALYN

I woke the next morning tangled amongst the bedsheets with my muscles aching and sore. Marco was notably absent from the bed, but his smell still clung to me and saturated the morning air.

Tendrils of rejection slivered in my chest looking at his now empty space and I tried my best to push them away. I had expected this. Now I had to live with the consequences.

The clock on the nightstand showed the time was still early, but knowing any attempt at sleep would be futile, I decided to face the day.

Despite the morning sun, heat wafted through the balcony doors, so I took a quick shower and threw on a bikini determined to spend the day by the pool.

I tugged on a sheer kimono and some sandals before padding out to the gardens and relaxing into one of the loungers. I wasn’t there long before one of the staff came over with some orange juice and a selection of foods. I declined the food but accepted the drink, too uneasy to have much of an appetite.

I didn’t know how the day was going to play out, especially not when I was expected to meet Marco’s mother at the wedding reception later.

I slipped on my shades and tried to ignore the unease that still lingered in my stomach.

When the sun’s rays beat down with an increased ferocity, I took off my kimono and undid the knot of my bikini top. Letting them fall to the floor beside me.

The last thing I need is tan lines.

With my earbuds in and my favorite band blasting away, I dove in and out of consciousness, feeling the effects of last night’s lack of sleep and uhm… exertions .

I wasn’t sure how long I had been drifting in and out for when I felt a shadow stretch across me. The lack of sun cooling my skin instantly.

When I glanced up, I was met with Marco’s narrowed eyes, and I could see his mouth moving.

I pulled my headphones out of my ears. “What?”

In a clear display of frustration, he gripped his hip in one hand and rubbed an angry hand across his face simultaneously with the other.

I couldn’t help it as my eyes flicked to his crotch and a flutter of anticipation erupted in my stomach remembering what he had felt like last night. What he had murmured into my ear as he thrusted into me. Oh, shit.

I bit my lip and forced myself to look away, immediately grateful for my sunglasses.

“Why are you naked?” He demanded, gesturing with his hand toward my exposed breasts.

“I’m sunbathing,” I said simply, not understanding his tone.

He sighed in exasperation, “There are people everywhere and your fucking tits are out. Put your top back on. Now!” He reached down to grab my bikini top and threw it at me.

Irritated that he was irritated, I gathered the material and got to my feet. I walked the few steps from the lounger to the pool and dropped it into the water.

“I can’t. It’s all wet.” I smiled sweetly.

I didn’t miss how his eyes trailed along my body and came to rest on my chest.

“I don’t give a fuck. I’m leaving in one hour and I’m not leaving you naked by my pool with staff nearby to watch.” He argued, stalking in the direction of the pool.

He knelt down just before he reached me, planting one hand on the pools edge while he went to retrieve the floating top.

A wicked idea skidded into my thoughts.

Don’t do it! DO NOT DO IT! DO. NOT. DO. I-

I gave him a quick shove on the shoulder and sent him straight into the pool, suit and all.

When his furious and drenched face emerged from the water, I doubled over in fits of laughter

“ADA!” He shouted furiously, but it only made me laugh harder.

Lightning fast, he sprung to the side and grabbed me by the legs, dragging me into the water with him.

I immediately shrieked at the sudden movement and felt the cold envelop me like glass as I toppled. When I broke the water’s surface, a mischievous smile contorted Marco’s face. My sunglasses floating along the surface between us.

“You asshole!” I tried my best to sound angry, but I couldn’t hide my smile long enough for it to be convincing.

I slapped my hand against the water, spraying him across the face. He scowled and immediately moved to come after me. I screamed and did my best to swim away from him, but he was too fast. He grabbed me by the waist, lifting me up out of the water and threw me back in a few feet away. I giggled as I caught my breath, and he drifted back over to me.

“Not funny,” Marco muttered, his hands coming to rest on my hips.

My legs encircled his waist instinctually.

“It was very funny, and you know it.” I laughed, my arms coming to rest across his shoulders as a boyish smile pulled at his lips.

Our faces were only a few inches apart and I could feel the heat from his hands despite the water. The air shifted noticeably between us and his expression darkened as if he were just as aware of my closeness as I was his. The urge to close the distance between us and push myself against him was unbearable.

I wanted to ride him right there in the fucking pool.

Not trusting myself or my fragile self-restraint, I swam back a few paces. The further away from his heat I got, the easier it was to think straight.

“You know you’re being ridiculous right? We’re in Europe! The motherland of boobs-out sunbathing. No one cares!” I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him.

I focused on threading my fingers through the water for a moment until I felt it shift behind me. The material of his suit brushed against my back and his inescapable arms locked around my waist. I felt his head dip toward my neck, his breath sending goosebumps across my skin. My heart raced.

Lips against my ear he murmured, “I don’t want people looking at what’s mine.”

My breath caught and arousal swirled between my thighs, but it was met in equal measure with a cold uneasiness.

"Yours?” I asked breathlessly.

“Mine,” He confirmed, his lips pressed against my skin.

I couldn’t help but add, “Until you’re bored of me.”

My voice was barely above a whisper and while I hadn’t fully intended for him to hear it, from the way his body tensed I knew he had.

He started turning me to face him, “Wha?—"

The sudden sound of footsteps approaching the pool cut him off and he looked behind me in the direction of their owner.

I turned to see Layton walking the length of the pool toward us, stopping as he reached the edge.

“Excuse me, Boss. We have to leave in the next thirty minutes to make the ceremony in time,” His gruff voice announced.

Marco nodded once in acknowledgment before Layton retreated, walking back the way he came. His eyes never once looked over at me—smart move.

“I have to go,” Marco muttered, seemingly annoyed.

He stood to his full height in the water and leaned forward, brushing his lips against my forehead before making his way to the side and lifting himself out. His clothes clung to his skin, dripping onto the warm stone beneath him as he stood.

He looked like a fucking Italian God even wet and disheveled.

“Now you see what I meant about wet clothes,” I said sarcastically, trying to diffuse the tension building inside me.

He turned around, meeting my gaze with an unexpectedly playful smile.

“Nonetheless, put your top back on,” he ordered, but I could hear humor in it. “I’ll see you at the reception later.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked slowly back to the house.

Regrettably, I did as he said and grabbed my bikini top, strapping it back on. Then I leaned back in the water. Allowing myself to float effortlessly on the surface while my head whirled.

What was he going to say just now?

I didn’t know.

I had been shocked later that afternoon when I’d found a hair stylist and makeup artist set up in my dressing room, but it quickly turned into appreciation. Marco had organized it all as a surprise for me, apparently.

I had been even more surprised when I wandered into the bathroom to find a black sequin ballgown hanging on a golden hook. The dress was absolutely stunning, and judging by the designer label I found when putting it on…was the most expensive dress I’d ever worn. It was backless except from the thin spaghetti straps that crossed once in the center of my shoulders. The material clung to my skin in a way that perfectly accentuated my hips before fanning out at the knee and pooling on the floor. It was sexy and stylish. The embodiment of midnight and sin.

I barely recognized the reflection as my own when I stood in front of the mirror some hours later. I was beautiful.

“Fucking hell, Bandit.” Jesse gave a low whistle as I walked down the monolithic stairs to the front doors.

“Nice dress, huh?” I asked, not missing how his eyes looked slightly more coal-like than usual.

He shot me a grin, “It’s alright.”

I rolled my eyes and passed him my overnight bag before following him to the car. He drove us across to the other side of Catania, not stopping until we pulled up in front of a breath-taking 18 th century villa. When we stopped beside a set of tiered stone steps, beautiful orchestral music drifted through the open windows of the car as well as the distant chatter of hundreds of people.

Jesse came around the car and offered me his arm as he threw his keys to a nearby valet.

“Stay near me and Enzo tonight,” he said in a hushed voice, greeting people up ahead with a nod or a small smile. “And don’t talk to anyone you don’t know unless we are around.”

“Most people here hate my guts and want me dead.” Uneasiness settled in my stomach as I said the words. “I know that, Jesse. I’ll keep my head down.” I promised.

“No one here wants you dead. And even if they did, nothing will happen to you.” His voice was earnest as he looked at me, but it did little to stifle my anxiety.

I didn’t miss the curious gazes that looked our way as we crossed the threshold into the ornate hall. Hundreds of people were crowded inside, gathering around tables or splintered off into smaller groups standing about the hall. Drinks were being passed around on silver platters by butlers in black tailcoats with white gloves, as they moved effortlessly through the masses of lavishly dressed people. Large round tables littered the room, each overflowing with beautiful, white flowers and large pillar candles. Beyond them, the orchestra was situated on a golden filigree balcony and looked to consist of over twenty people.

It was extravagant.

It made the weddings I had attended growing up look like village festivals and I couldn’t help feeling deficient in some way. It’s no wonder they hate my father so much… I mused. To them, Manninos were the proletariat while they were the immutable bourgeoise.

Jesse and I wandered over to one of the tables near the back of the room. Enzo was already seated as we approached, wearing his usual flamboyant shirt and talking animatedly to another man I didn’t recognize. Jesse greeted them both with a smack on the back, while Enzo gave me a kiss on both cheeks and the other man nodded in my direction. The men immediately lapsed into animated Italian and I internally sighed, knowing that I was unlikely to understand anything all night.

A butler approached with a flute of champagne and as the minutes ebbed away, more and more people began taking their seats.

I eagerly scanned the room looking for Marco, but I couldn’t see him amongst the hordes of ostentatious gowns and hand-stitched designer suits before the meal was served. Four courses were served, each seemingly dragging out longer than the last.

Jesse was still engaged in discussions with Enzo and the other man, ‘Carlos’, leaving me to my own devices. The two other people at our table, a man and a woman, also interjected now and again in discussions, but otherwise kept to themselves. They looked to be newlyweds, and I often found myself looking away from their intense displays of affection.

“Going to the restroom,” I announced to Jesse once the music started morphing into a more modern piece and the food courses finally stopped coming.

My legs were stiff as I got up from the table and made my way through one of the white corridors that fed off the main hall. My heels audibly clicked against the hard stone as the music grew quieter.

I wasn’t surprised when I heard the shuffle of feet behind me and saw Alonso following me down the hall.

“I’m just going to the restroom. You don’t need to follow me.” I called gently to him.

He smirked but continued following, “I have orders, Ma’am.”

“How many times with the ‘Ma’am’, Alonso?” I muttered and I heard him chuckle gruffly behind me.

I heaved open the door to the toilet, but stopped when I saw Alonso also move in the direction of the door. “Don’t you fucking dare. You are not hearing me pee!”

He held his arms up innocently, “I’m just standing guard, Miss Adalyn.”

I sent him a look anyway and turned to face the elaborate marble room.

What is with these people and marble? I sighed, locking the door behind me.

I quickly went to the loo and flushed, but just as I was pulling my dress skirts back into place, the doorknob to the room turned and opened.

I shrieked in surprise about to yell at whoever had entered, but I faltered when I saw Marco slip through the door.

I thought I locked that!

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, clutching a hand to my chest and trying to breathe normally. “I was peeing!”

It was like he didn’t even hear me. He leaned against the wall and allowed his eyes to rake over my body with an agonizing slowness that left me feeling all kinds of aching. I pushed away the feelings he was stirring, turning my back to him and walking to the sink. I lathered up my hands with the jasmine soap on the side and rinsed off the suds.

“You look gorgeous, Ada.” His voice came out thick and deep.

I observed his reflection in the mirror, trailing my eyes over his choice of outfit for the evening. He wore his trademark designer black suit, but his usual dark shirt had been replaced with a white cotton one which he wore buttoned up to the collar. A matching bowtie was around his neck and the glint of a gold Rolex hinted underneath the sleeve of his jacket.

Lord give me strength.

“And you look straight out of The Godfather,” I observed, causing him to chuckle. I retrieved a lipstick from my clutch and traced my lips with the vivid red stick, feeling his eyes watching me as seconds ticked away. “Are you having a nice time?”

“It’s alright.” Came his gruff answer.

“Not very talkative this evening, are you?” I observed, turning to face him. He smiled.

“Talking isn’t really what I want to do with you right now,” he remarked, pushing himself off the wall and stalking toward me with a slowness that felt equal parts dangerous and exciting.

A shiver ran up my spine.

He didn’t stop until he was a foot away, and he caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers, sending tingles racing along my skin. My gaze fluttered to his and I could see the longing I felt mirrored within them.

“That’s a shame because talking is all you’re gonna get from me right now.”

He smirked and lifted his head away from me dramatically.

“Fine.” He sighed, seeing the sternness of my expression. “Are you having a nice time tonight?”

“It’s alright.” I copied his earlier words, failing to find my own. “I don’t understand a word anyone is saying, but I’m pretty sure I don’t wanna know anyway.”

He laughed, flashing me that boyish smile I had come to love. “Smart girl.”

“Am I in danger tonight or something?” I asked, having started connecting the dots from Jesse’s warning and Alonso’s constant presence in my head. There shouldn’t have been a need for either of them tonight.

He snorted derisively. “You know who I am, right?”

“Then why is Alonso playing the role of bathroom attendant?”

His smile deepened, “There are just some people here…I’d rather you didn’t meet tonight.”

Which people? Just as I opened my mouth to ask my question aloud, he cut me off.

“We’d better get back before people start to miss us.”

“Miss you , you mean,” I corrected.

“That’s not what I said,” he answered cryptically.

With surprising tenderness, Marco leaned forward and placed a kiss to my forehead the same way he had earlier. He then took my hand in his and pulled me with him out of the bathroom door.

Alonso, Wyatt and Layton were now gathered in the hallway outside, and I blushed. God knows what they think we were doing in there! Though judging by the cool expression now adorning the Don’s face, I was apparently the only one that cared.

As we approached the end of the hall, the chatter of the guests became louder, and the beat of music grew heavier. When we finally stepped into the bustling room, I was certain Marco would let go of my hand at any minute but surprisingly his grip only became tighter. Satisfaction pulled at my lips as the minutes ticked away with my hand still in his, and I stood up a little straighter, proud to be on his arm.

However fleeting it may be.

People nodded or stared as we walked past. Only the bravest among them dared to approach the Don and even fewer said more than a word or two.

After a few minutes talking to a fat older man with a sufficiently artificial looking wife, Marco pulled us to a smaller gathering of people. I didn’t recognize any of the faces before me, but their expressions nearly all held a sense of familiarity that made me second guess myself.

Marco leaned in to kiss one of the older women on the cheek, resting a hand on her back affectionately.

“Ada, this is my mother, Eliyana La Torre. Mother, this is Adalyn Rossi,” Marco introduced us.

There was a striking resemblance between Eliyana La Torre and her son.

Not only was there familiarity in the curve of their smiles, but it was also there in their unusually large chocolate eyes and raven black hair. Unlike her son, however, Eliyana had a gentle face that looked as if it only knew kindness. She had an elegant softness about her. A kind of softness that any other woman in the Cosa Nostra would have given their entire inheritance to possess.

I could see now why he had laughed when I suggested she wanted to kill me. Eliyana La Torre was no killer.

Eliyana turned and extended her hand toward me, which I immediately took. A smile that I recognized as one of Marco’s lighting her face.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mrs. La Torre.”

She smiled. “I assure you the pleasure is all mine Adalyn. I have heard a great deal about you. I do hope that Sicily has been to your liking so far,” she said affably, her tone motherly and warm.

“Yes, very much so,” I answered with an appreciative smile.

“Ada, this is my uncle Leonardo Moretti and my aunt Catarina,” Marco introduced me to the remaining two people in the small circle.

They both smiled kindly in greeting and murmured their ‘hellos’ in turn.

With the introductions out of the way, the five of us fell into relaxed conversations about the newly married couple and how beautiful the church ceremony had been. Despite my not knowing the couple in question well enough to comment on many aspects of the subject, they were gracious enough to continue speaking in English to allow me to at least follow the conversation.

After a few minutes, Eliyana asked about my job at Diamond City and after a while the discussion moved on to Marco’s poor gambling skills.

“If I told you that Marco here lost €50,000 on a roulette wheel in one hour, you might rethink working at one of his casinos!” Marco’s uncle Leonardo chortled, smacking the younger man on the back affectionately.

“The damned wheel was rigged!” Marco insisted, immediately going on the defensive.

“It was at my casino,” His uncle responded good-naturedly, causing us all to laugh.

“Then it was definitely rigged.” Marco smirked.

After about an hour or so of casual conversation, Layton approached us and spoke to Marco quietly a moment. Marco nodded in acknowledgement at the man and after a second, politely excused us from the group. He led me quickly back through the throngs of people until I found myself once again seated at the same table as earlier.

Jesse and Enzo were still sitting with Carlos, but the newlyweds were now notably absent. Two younger women had taken their place and were chatting enthusiastically to the men instead.

The table promptly lapsed into silence at our sudden arrival.

The men muttered respectful greetings and nodded to the Don, while the women keenly observed him with lascivious eyes.

“Wait here. I have some business to take care of.” Marco declared as we came to a halt.

The unfamiliar women flicked their gaze to our still entwined hands and disappointment turned their pretty features into bitter scowls. Marco curtly said a few words in Italian before dropping my hand and stalking off with his security detail a step behind him.

Trying my hardest to not look disappointed, I re-took my seat at the table and resigned myself to people watching. With sipping on champagne my only source of entertainment for the evening, time passed even slower than before. What with the obvious attempts of flirtation and ridiculously childlike voices of the women before me. Even without understanding what they were saying, the tell-tale signs of desperation clung to them as they attempted to compete for the mens’ attentions.

Looks like Miss Italian Gold-digger one and Mafia Mrs.-Wannabe two have entered the chat… I rolled my eyes and downed the rest of my drink.