A Madness of Crows: Mafia University #3

41. Day 100 – Caterina

Ismooth my hand over the gown.

It arrived an hour ago, delivered with a note, and a box.

The note was handwritten in a narrow, spiked hand.

To new beginnings.

And in the small, black velvet box… I glance down, to where the ring rests just below my knuckle. The thin band of gold gleams back at me.

Stepping forward, I carefully assess my reflection. Cecile has already left, her face livid after watching me pull the ring from the box and slide it on.

She kept glancing down at it as she applied my make-up. But my face is flawless, my eyes highlighted with shimmering pink liner that matches the shade of my lips.

I lift the skirt of my dress, letting it settle around me as I sway my hips, testing. The material is light and soft, golden silk cascading to my feet. My breasts pushed together, held in place with golden laces that keep the dress in place.

Yes, this dress is… perfect.

After a few more minutes, I step out of my bedroom. Stefan is waiting there. His tattooed hands clench, as if he would reach for me before he glances at the guards.

“How do I look?” I turn, showing him my bare back.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs without looking at the dress. But his eyes shift, unsteady as I smile at him. “Are you alright?”

“Perfect.” His eyes caress my face as we walk, searching, but I keep quiet.

Cecile glares at me when we walk in, but my eyes move straight to Salvatore. He stands at the end of the immaculate table, the black cloth laid with gold tableware that matches my dress. Those ice blue eyes drink me in, his face shadowed above the flickering candlelight from the tapered candles, carefully placed in the twisted black candelabras. “Buonasera, wife.”

And even his face twitches in surprise, when I smile back at him. The first true smile I’ve ever gifted him.

“Buonasera, husband.”

Beside me, Stefan stiffens.

I don’t give him another look as I glide forward. Salvatore’s eyes narrow, assessing, but he doesn’t stop me as I move closer, my hand settling gently on his wrist.

His cheek is dry, almost papery beneath my lips as I brush a kiss to his skin before settling into my chair. Cecile, seated on his other side, gapes.

I’m still smiling as he slowly settles into his chair. I can feel Stefan staring at me from the doorway as I reach out, my finger brushing the back of his hand. “Thank you for the gift.”

Salvatore glances down at the ring. “I thought it was appropriate, now that you are feeling… more like yourself.”

A silent command, to return to his bed.

I keep my finger where it is, stroking the back of his hand as I lean in. His eyes move down, tracing the brand in my skin.

“I have realized,” I breathe, “that I would prefer to be a more… active participant in my own life.”

Truth. Little kernels of truth, scattered in to add credence to my words. “If there is another option than that… haze, perhaps I want to explore it.”

My finger shifts, sliding up beneath the cuffs of his white shirt, and he stiffens. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Slowly, I withdraw my hand. He follows the movement as my throat flexes, and I glance away from him. “I…,”

My finger brushes against the laces of my dress, my eyes staying down. Submissive. Obedient, as a flush spreads across my skin, heating it. “But perhaps not.”

Cold fingers beneath my chin, lifting it. “Tell me what you mean.”

Victory. It lingers in his eyes, so close he can almost taste it. I let my lips part, my breathing deepen, and he glances down at my mouth.

“I would prefer to show you,” I murmur. Hesitant, edged with a hint of fear that makes his eyes flare. “It may help to… prove my intentions.”

Intentions that I make clear, as my hand slips beneath the table, and grazes his knee.

I withdraw it, keeping my eyes down as he scans me. “We’ll see.”

I keep my gaze averted from Stefan as we eat. All of my attention is reserved for Salvatore – brief, quick glances before looking away. I take the salmon tartare he gives me with a small smile as I wrap my lips around the tines of the fork and drag them back.

And he doesn’t take his eyes from me.

Delight at this new, unexpected twist in his game lingers in his stare as he leans forward, gesturing. “You have a little something here.”

I tilt my face up, my eyes sliding closed. Waiting.

His tongue brushes my skin, and I twist, my lips pressing against his before I rip them away. I don’t have to feign the shaking in my fingers, don’t even try to hide them as he stays where he is, his breath ghosting across my face before moving away.

When the main course is almost finished, I dare one, brief look in his direction as Cecile tries in vain to engage a visibly disinterested Salvatore in conversation.

Stefan hasn’t touched his food, the knife and fork still neatly laid on either side of his full plate. And he’s looking at me as if – as if he doesn’t recognise me. This new version of me, who flushes when Salvatore takes my hand in his, his thumb rubbing over the ring that marks me as his.

Stefan’s brow creases in a silent question, but I’m already turning away.

My husband sits back in his seat, a glass of wine dangling precariously from his fingers. Considering. “Well then, Caterina.”

I place my hands in my lap. Keep my eyes down.

“I think I would like to see what you have to offer.” He takes a sip. “Right here.”

My stiffening back is not feigned, as I glance around. Two guards linger at the back of the room. Cecile is staring at her plate, Stefan’s hands clenched on the table. “I would prefer not to have an audience.”

“I would.” Silky words. “And since my opinion is the only one that should matter to you, I assume it will not be a problem.”

I stare at my hands. “The guards, they… they talk about me. Try to touch me, sometimes.”

My breath locks inside my chest.

His voice raises at that, icy with rage as he addresses the men. “Remain outside the door.”

He smiles at me. “There. There will be consequences.”

“Thank you.”

My voice is a hoarse whisper. He pushes his chair back. Motions, with a smirk. “I confess that I’m quite interested in this offer of yours, Caterina. Perhaps you can teach Cecile a trick or two. She’s become rather boring. Time for a replacement, perhaps.”

The insinuation is clear, as I stand and move to his side.

Cecile is frozen, her face pale in what looks like genuine pain.

But Salvatore and I watch each other. I lift one leg, my dress sliding up to reveal bare, golden skin as I swing my leg across and settle on top of him. His face doesn’t change, but his breathing does. I twitch my hips, pushing them down.

His arms wrap around my lower back as I lift my hand, tracing his cheek. My lips hover over his. “Then I’ll try my best to make this memorable for you.”

I close my eyes as our lips meet. His hands tighten on me, painful in their grip as I rock into him, our lips moving as I pour every part of my soul into making my husband believe that this is real.

Every bit of the pain, and fear, and anger. I set it all free, my hands rough as I push them into his hair, gripping the strands and yanking his head back so I can press my lips to his neck, my teeth grazing his skin.

I make it fucking count.

His hands roam my back, my ass, pinching and grabbing as I keep up that rocking movement. Salvatore hardens beneath me, and I moan into his mouth, feeling his breathing quicken with excitement as his hands clasp my hips.

My nails dig into the back of his neck, slide down toward his spine. Dragging, gouging. My nails sink in, so deep that I feel his skin split beneath them, my fingers damp when I pull them away.

He jerks, but I twist his face to mine, leaving faint, bloody fingerprints on his face. Pulling his hand up to the top of my breasts, I trace his fingers over the brand in my skin before I lean back, keeping up that rocking motion. And his hips push beneath me, pushing up.

When I try to stop, to pause, his hand grips my neck, squeezing. My voice is a rasp.

“Wait.” His eyes are lit, lit with excitement and lust as he increases his hold. “I… I want to undress.”

He releases me at that. “Quickly.”

I scramble off his lap, stepping away into the space between him and Cecile as my hands lift to the gold laces keeping my dress up. I hold his gaze, letting him see the promise in my own.

A solid weight settles in my chest as I tug on a lace, loosening it.

His eyes hood, tongue darting out as I shake the first free, and move onto the second.

All the while, I stare at him.

Waiting.

My body is blocking Cecile and Stefan’s gaze, hiding the moment that his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. His mouth opens, and he swallows. Swallows again, trying to focus his eyes on me.

I step forward, my mouth pressing against his to capture the garbled noise, confusion and growing awareness. My lips travel to his ear as his arms drop. “You’re awfully quiet, husband. Something wrong?”

He makes no reaction to my hiss, his eyes slowly blinking.

I have minutes at best, to make this count. I stay where I am as I loosen the laces further, reaching my hand inside my dress.

It comes out bloody, clutching shards of glass. The broken shards of my mirror.

Taken from the space in my bedroom where I hid them after I smashed that mirror to pieces and lied to everyone about it, even Stefano.

Nobody checked. Nobody questioned it.

“Salvatore?” Cecile’s voice rings out behind me, questioning.

I turn to Cecile with a smile, blocking her view as she tries to look around me. “Do you remember what I said when we first met, Cecile?”

Her lips curl. “What? Get out of the way.”

Stefano’s chair pushes back with a scraping sound as I tap my finger against my lips. “What was it? Ah – I remember now. They will have to untie me at some point.”

Her eyes jerk to mine.

“And when they do,” I say softly. “I will find you.”

My hand flies out.

And I slash that jagged, broken shard of glass directly across her throat.