Mafia Obsession

Elio

She doesn’t have any idea how beautiful she is as she taps her leg, humming. My savage mind tries to return to earlier, when my hand was between her thighs, rubbing her to completion. The sounds she was making, but my woman deserves more than just lust. She deserves attention, too- heat of a different sort.

“I never knew I loved you,” she sings quietly, her voice shaking, her eyebrows raised as if asking me if she should keep going. I nod firmly. “I never knew who you were…” She gets more confident, letting her voice fill the car. I was right. She sounds like an angel. “How can I love a stranger? Oh, my heart is in danger…”

Her confidence increases even more, her voice getting louder, more beautiful, more perfect. I watch-the luckiest audience of one who’s ever lived-beyond enthralled.

“That was incredible,” I tell her once she’s done.

She pouts at me. I lean forward, kissing her passionately, pressing my hands down on her hips, holding her tightly, holding her with meaning. “It was perfect,” I growl. “So don’t pout at me like that. Who was the song about? Who’s this stranger?”

“I don’t know,” she replies. “That’s always been the point. I’ve never loved anybody, but I enjoy love songs. So I write them about the emotion itself. The love, not the person.”

Maybe that will change when we fall in love, I almost say, but this is already complicated enough.

“The alibi will work,” I say, “as long as you can sing in front of Mom and Dad.”

She shrugs. “I didn’t even think I’d be able to sing in front of you. With Mom’s life at risk…” She lets out a long, shaky breath. “I can do it. I have to.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” I tell her, then lean over and kiss her again.

She makes that cute moaning noise, half shock, half desire. When I start losing control-one hand sliding up her leg, the other around her waist- she puts her hand on my chest. When she pushes away, I can tell it takes some effort.

“We have to keep moving,” she says. “I can’t just leave Mom out there.” “You’re right,” I say.

Yet it’s so damn difficult. It would be far better to drive to the nearest five- star hotel, get a suite, lay her down on a four-poster bed, and strip her clothes off. Then I’d fall to my knees and start kissing up her thigh, tempted by her soaked, tangy slit. I’d lick her clit first, then…

Focus. I drive onto the road, focusing on the simple mechanics of driving, nothing else. If I let my mind wander, I’ll start obsessing over my woman. I won’t be able to stop. Her angel’s voice. Her steamy body. Her everything.

Getting to Mom and Dad’s apartment doesn’t take much longer. One of our men, Matteo, wanders over to my car when he sees me pull up. Though my parents live on the top floor and have additional security up there, there’s always a Family man working as the doorman.

“Late night, boss,” he says, his eyes narrowing when he sees Scarlet. He knows better than to say anything, of course, but seeing me with a woman must be strange. As far as the men know, I’m a forever bachelor.

“Open the underground garage,” I tell him, “and Matteo, you didn’t see my friend here.”

“Of course.”

“Matteo’s one of my father’s most trusted men,” I tell Scarlet. “He won’t say anything to anybody. None of my father’s men will. Even so, we need to think of a fake name.”

She wraps her arms around herself. This must be what love feels like. Every single one of her gestures and tics makes me crazy. I could spend hours simply watching her, dissecting every single movement.

“Any ideas?” she asks.

“You have the voice of an angel,” I say. “How about Angela?”

She smiles. It’s shaky, a little unsure, but it’s better than the fear that could justifiably coat every one of her features. I can see the fear in her, but she’s keeping it buried, pushed down. “That works.”

Once the underground garage opens, I drive inside, parking in the corner near the private elevator. Climbing from the car, I try to walk around to Scarlet’s side and be a gentleman, but she’s already sprung out, shifting from foot to foot, seeming full of energy despite the time. She looks around the parking lot at the sports cars, the gleaming jeeps, and the limo.

“Are these all yours?” she asks.

“That one is,” I say, gesturing to the Bugatti. “The rest are my father’s. Or they were.”

“Were?”

“They still are,” I say. “It’s just… well…”

“It’s okay.” She places her hand on mine, giving it a warm squeeze of support. “I guess he doesn’t do much driving anymore.”

“Exactly,” I tell her, taking her hand and leading her to the elevator. Once we’re inside, it takes everything I have not to press her against the wall, wrap my arms around her, and indulge in her. My dick is still aching from how close we almost got to real steaminess.

The elevator doors open. A bleary-eyed Sebastian greets us with a confused smile. He’s been the butler since I was a teenager-a tall, thin man with a shock of white hair and a unique shade to his eyes, a blue that’s almost purple in certain lights.

“Master Marino,” he says.

“Prepare a room for my friend, please,” I say. “I’ll explain the situation to Mom and Dad in the morning.”This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Quite right, sir.”

“Is he a butler?” Scarlet whispers once he’s gone, her voice full of awe.

I smirk, taking her hand and nodding. She looks at the tall walls and the framed artwork. It must be a big contrast to her place. If it wasn’t for the situation with her mom, I bet she’d be asking many questions, but I can tell she feels guilty even contemplating doing anything but worry.

In the living room, she looks around again at the vaulted ceiling, the chandelier, and Dad’s large bookcases. “Would you like anything to drink?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’m okay, but we’ve forgotten my suitcase.” “I’ll bring it up before I leave.”

“You’re going?” she asks anxiously.

I take both her hands, pressing them reassuringly. At least, that’s what I hope I’m doing. It’s not like I’ve got much experience making people feel better. The books, keeping order, that’s more my thing. I’ve never been one for big emotional displays. Maybe she’s changing that.

“I have to get to work right away,” I tell her. “In the meantime, try to think of anywhere your dad might’ve gone.”

She bows her head. “I’m sorry. I have no idea. I don’t pay attention to it. It’s just been me and Mom and… and him when he feels like coming home. Now he’s got Mom all wrapped up in his mess.”

I pull her into a hug, smoothing my hands over her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. When I kiss her, she gasps like the show of affection is as shocking to her as it is to me. I kiss her again.

“Don’t beat yourself up. You shouldn’t have to worry about any of this stuff.”

We don’t say anything for a while. Simply holding each other is enough. After a while, she says, “What should I tell my boss tomorrow? Not the truth, obviously.”

“Definitely not that,” I say, honestly, more than a little pissed that my woman has to even think about bosses and all the rest of it. In my mind, she’s above all that. It shouldn’t even enter her head. “Tell them you’ve been headhunted by a top talent agency. You’ll be busy working all day.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” She turns away from me.

I grab her hand and pull her back. “The hell was that?” “Don’t make fun of me.”

I step forward, pushing my body against hers. I wonder if she can feel this new heat in me-this new passion. I’ve never had it before. “I’d never make fun of you,” I say firmly. “You’re good enough. It wasn’t a joke.”

“Seriously, what should-”

“Don’t worry about your job,” I snap. “If they fire you, don’t worry. I’ll help you in any way you need.”

She stands on her tiptoes. It’s the first time she’s initiated the kiss. I let her lead the way. We kiss slowly, her hands spreading over my back. “I can’t believe you want me,” she whispers, her face pressed against my chest. It’s like she can’t look at me when she says this.

“Why?” I ask.

“It’s just… you’re you. I’m me.”

“That’s very helpful,” I say in a very light, teasing tone. My woman is clearly on edge. “I want you. I need you. I…”

I stop quickly. I started this by trying to delete her number. Now, I’m on the verge of giving a love-filled speech. I need to get a serious grip.

“Sir,” Sebastian says quietly from the doorway. “The room is ready.” “Thank you,” I say. “Would you please show Angela where it is?”

I take a step away from her. She looks a little hurt, then nods and turns away. I have to put both hands behind my back to stop myself from reaching forward and grabbing her hand again, turning her toward me, and kissing her even with Sebastian there.

Instead, I go in the opposite direction. I’ll have to wake Mom and explain the singer angle. I suspect Mom will think I’m using the singing thing as an excuse. She’ll think I’ve finally found a woman I’m interested in and, for whatever reason-maybe she doesn’t have a home of her own-I’m keeping her here. That’s fine as long as Mom doesn’t know about the debt and the sharks.

I’ve got a lot of work to do.