Page 21 of The Mafioso’s Bride

“It doesn’t have to tonight.” I lift her from my lap and set her beside me before my good intentions fail.

She sits with her knees pressed together. Her swollen lips and rumpled sweater make leaving her untouched a punishment meant for me.

Giada looks at my mouth, then at my hands. She places her palm over the hard length beneath my trousers. Deliberate pressure. No reluctance.

Every muscle in my body locks. “I wanted to do that,” she says.

“I gathered.”

“I want to kiss you again too.”

“You should go upstairs.”

“That wasn’t permission.”

I lean close enough for my lips to brush hers once. “Yes, Giada. You may kiss me.”

She does. One hard, thorough kiss before she stands.

At the office door, she looks back at me. Her cheeks remain pink, but her chin is high.

“I’m going to work out the rest of my answer,” she says. “Then you won’t be able to doubt me.”

She leaves me on the sofa, hard and aching, with a promise I intend to collect.

Giada

Polina sets plain pasta beside the roasted vegetables on the dining table. The room is quiet. No music plays. No servants hover behind us.

“Luca sent a list of foods you eat,” she says. “The sauce is separate.”

“Thank you.”

I take pasta and grated cheese, keeping them apart. Polina doesn’t comment. At home, Mama would have mixed everything together while my brothers laughed.

“Luca said you wanted us to have lunch alone,” Polina says.

“It’s easier to talk without our husbands listening. They’re searching for Giuseppe and your father anyway.”

My fork pauses. “Have they found them?”

“No. Luca will tell you if that changes.”

She doesn’t ask whether I miss Papa or explain how I must feel.

“Is marriage to a Corsini man always confusing?”

Polina laughs, then covers her mouth. “I’m sorry. Yes, it can be.”

“Good. Then the confusion isn’t proof I’m doing marriage incorrectly.”

“No. They’re confusing men.”

“Luca says what he means.”

“About what he wants from you?”

“He kissed me yesterday. He told me where he would touch me before he did it. I liked his mouth and the firm pressure of his hands.” Heat reaches my face. “He put his hand between my legs over my trousers. I asked him to continue. He stopped.”