Page 45 of The Reaper's Bride

“Don’t,” he says, harshly.

My eyes fly open to see him staring at me, gauging my mood and thoughts. “Don’t what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

He shakes his head and doesn’t reply, and I know he’s not ready to hear those words from me. And, him saying them back to me? I’m as likely to travel to the moon as hear those words from him.

24

Caterina

Alessio left for work shortly after our shower and, though I wanted more of his closeness after my first time, I didn’t dare beg for it any more than I’ll beg for words of love he does not feel. He’ll probably be out late tonight as usual.

I spent time getting to know our unexpected houseguest, Matilde, which involved practicing my rusty Italian. She's a lovely girl, and it breaks my heart to learn she's lost her father recently. Considering what she's gone through, she admitted being tired and begged my pardon so she could rest some more after lunch.

As expected, I’m sore all day. Armando was even more attentive than usual, watching me walk with a concerned curiosity in his expression. Surely, he doesn’t suspect the reason why. He probably just thinks Alessio was rougher than usual. It felt rough enough but, even with my lack of experience, I could tell Alessio was going easy on me. I wonder what the maid willthink when she changes the sheets. Or if Silvio De Luca will be informed of it. I cringe at the thought.

With a sigh, I get ready for dinner downstairs with the family. Bibi insists the girls all attend dinner each night and that we dress impeccably for the occasion even if our men don’t manage to join us. It was the same at home with my mother. It’s a common expectation of mafia wives, and our traditions die harder than anything.

Shortly before six, Alessio surprises me as he strides into the bedroom, his hair damp with sweat. “You look pretty, but I suggest no heels tonight.”

I glance down at the high heels I’m wearing. Gia’s husband hates for her to wear them because he's short, but that’s not an issue between my husband and me.

Shoes are the furthest thing from my mind the next instant when Alessio strips out of his clothes, displaying lean muscle and sweaty toned and tanned skin. The piercing on his penis glints in the light, and my mouth starts to water even as my pussy gives a feeble whimper of protest. My husband’s body turns me on in a major way and now that I no longer fear the unknown…

“You’re drooling.”

Realizing I’ve been caught, I blush but still meet his smirk head on. “You’re home early. Why do I need to change shoes?”

“Because I’m taking my wife out on a date. Just need a quick shower first.”

Affection swells inside me and that’s not all. “Do I need to shower with you?”

He chuckles, grabbing the soap as he starts the water. “We’re going out for dinner and to see a few sights tonight. Expect some extra walking.”

Excitement fills me. He’s taking me on a date, a real one that he’s planned for us, not me pleading to come to the club lastnight. I find a different pair of shoes as he suggested… after I enjoy watching him take his shower.

***

Bibi is less than pleased when I tell her we’re going out for dinner. “You could’ve said something sooner. I wouldn’t have had Ornella waste time preparing your plate,” she snaps at me.

“Watch your tone with my wife, Bibi. She’s not a servant, and she doesn’t answer to you.”

Alessio’s dangerously low rasp makes my nipples tighten as Bibi lowers her head, murmuring, “Of course.”

My heart thunders wildly when he places his hand at the small of my back to escort me out of the house without a backwards glance at his stepmother, leading me to a luxury SUV parked on the driveway.

“Were you close to her when you were smaller?” I ask him as we tear along the highway toward the Strip.

“No, never. She felt threatened by the shadow of my mother and showed clear favoritism toward her own children as they came along. She loved getting me into trouble when I was young, but she prefers me over Nerio at least.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty, Gia’s age. Nerio’s mother was one of my father’s favorites at Club Oasis for a time. He boasts that Nerio is his Seconda Notte bastard, but I don’t know if that’s true.”

My cheeks burn, and I understand why Nerio’s presence would upset Bibi. “I hate the Seconda,” I whisper.

“Of course, you do. No one consulted any brides about the tradition when it was formed.”

“Do you agree with that?”