Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Madi
M y ass is still sore from Adrian’s punishment when he leaves for work the next day. This time, he actually does lean in and press a soft kiss to my forehead while I pretend to be asleep.
It’s weirdly… sweet.
I spend the morning shifting uncomfortably at the pottery wheel, my bottom aching in every position. A reminder that I acted like a brat last night and Adrian made good on his promise. It was harder, more painful than the first time. And yet, when he dragged his fingers through my slit, I was wet for him. Even now, shame burns my face at how much I like his punishments. That’s got to be fucked up, right? But when he lowered his mouth to my pussy, that shame dissipated and all I could think about was the relief his tongue promised me.
After I made my rounds delivering pieces to local shops, I headed back to Adrian’s estate to avoid the rain. Now it’s pouring as I watch from the window. He’s still not home yet.
I’ve been in this house for over a week now and I realize I’ve barely snooped through the place.
There are only two bedrooms in Adrian’s house. I’d estimate this estate on Royal Street has to be worth over a million dollars. Seems like you should get more bedrooms for that price point.
When I first moved in, I found an oversized kitchen fitted with stainless steel appliances and marble countertops. There’s also a large butler’s pantry next to a wine room encased in glass, with a stupid number of bottles on display. Seems pretentious, I’d noted.
Next, I found the dining room and living room, the less formal one than the space at the front of the house. Two bathrooms downstairs, which seems unnecessary considering there are two more upstairs.
My family home is larger, though, two, maybe three times the size. It isn’t lost on me that I’m a pot calling the kettle black. I might be judging Adrian for his extravagance, but this is exactly the kind of wealth I grew up with.
Now, I’m here alone, making it the perfect time to wander a little further. I make my way through his home, inspecting each room. The one I slept in the first night was definitely the spare room, and down the hall is the owner’s suite with an attached bathroom. The last room on this floor is fitted with a desk that is covered in papers. They call to my nosy side, and I step over, flipping through the documents.
Nothing is interesting, though. Just a bunch of legal jargon about people I don’t know. Letters and notices informing clients of their charges, trial dates. I flip through some more, noting the names and looking for anything that stands out.
When nothing sparks any interest, I move on, trailing my fingers over the edges of his red oak desk. He’s messy , I think, as I continue my ventures to the bookshelf on the side wall. Unlike the one downstairs, this one is filled with law books. Some shelved in rows and others in stacks. This office doesn’t match the rest of the house. It’s not clean and styled. It looks lived in and used. I know Adrian has an actual law office somewhere, but I wonder if this is where he really works.
On one of the higher shelves, there’s a brass statue; it looks like the one in New York. The Statue of Liberty. I saw her once when I was six and my father took me to NYC. Well, more like my mother made him take us on a business trip with him. In between his meetings, ventured to the statue as a family. Surprisingly, it was one of the few times where we didn’t all hate each other.
Dad didn’t yell, Mom didn’t judge, and Marcus didn’t try to control me. We just stood there, looking up at the giant green woman in awe. And then afterwards, we shuffled off the ferry and bought hot dogs from a cart. The picture of a normal family.
“Find anything good?” Adrian’s voice intrudes my head right as I’m tracing my fingers over the blindfold of this statue. I snap my hand back, bringing it to my side as I face my husband.
“You’re home early.”
There’s a smirk on his lips, the corners ticked up just slightly as he watches me from the doorway. If Marcus caught me somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, he’d lunge for me, something I’ve been able to dodge since we were kids. Adrian doesn’t move, though. He leans against the molding coolly and takes me in. “I wanted to come home and check on my wife’s red ass, make sure she was able to sit properly today.” There’s a devilish glow in his eyes as he mentions his handiwork. “So, did you find anything interesting, princess?”
“No.” I calm my voice so it doesn’t come out squeaky. “You’re pretty boring.”
“You took a liking to lady justice, though.” He nods to the bronze statue I was just touching.
“I didn’t know her name.” I glance back at the statue. It makes sense now, realizing she’s holding a set of scales in one hand and dragging a sword with her other. “Why is she blindfolded?”
“Justice should be rendered without passion or prejudice to ensure a result which is fair.” He says the words like he knows them by heart, like he’s reciting them from memory.
I can’t help but snort, knowing that those are nothing but pretty, meaningless words. The law isn’t fair. This whole world was built on prejudice. Everything is about who you know and what you have. That’s why my family built their livelihood on their reputation as much as anything else.
“You don’t agree with lady justice?” Adrian asks with half a smirk.
“In theory. Practice, however, leaves something to be desired.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone takes our lady here to heart.”
I huff a laugh, but this time Adrian isn’t grinning when his eyes meet mine.
“You don’t believe I practice justice without passion or prejudice?”
“Passion, maybe. But prejudice? Adrian, look at who you work for.” I throw my hands up, as if to gesture to the people we’re surrounded by.
Criminals. Gangsters. Mafia.
How can you say you practice law without prejudice when you work for the mafia? Despite growing up in this world, my family’s business still makes my stomach churn. Ma would always turn the channel when the Costello name was mentioned, but once I got my hands on the internet, I could find it all with one Google search. Costello Famiglia.
It was hard to see my grandfather in the same light after that. The man who sat me on his lap and read my bedtime stories. The one who taught me how to ride a bike. I couldn’t see him as the same man accused of having a distribution network worth billions in drug money. He had men who sold drugs, stole cars, and committed murder all on his behalf.
The two versions didn’t reconcile.
My father and Marcus wore their hearts on their sleeves. It was obvious to me how much they cared about the family business and how little they cared about me.
And Adrian? He’s just one of the same. Another man caught up in the business of making money at all costs.
I’ve had those before, and they all ended the same. In a heap of disappointment.
Adrian scrubs a hand over his jaw as he watches me. “Have you considered, princess, that maybe I’m out here fighting against prejudice?”
My lips part, ready to tell him that’s a bold-faced lie, but he silences me with his actions. Moving toward the desk, he lifts a stack of papers and reads the names to me. “Anthony Borelli, Tony Sorchese, Marco Del’Amonte?”
“What’s your point?” I ask as my arms cross over my chest.
“With those names, in this city, not one of those men would get a fair day in court. You know what they do?” he asks, dropping the papers back onto his desk.
“I assume they worked for my brother.”
“Bingo.” Adrian waves his pointer finger. “So while they bring in money for your family, the money that has fed and clothed you over the years, your family has sat in your cushy towers reaping the benefits and not facing the consequences. These guys, who are using this money to feed their families, mind you, get picked up and sent straight to prison, all because of their association with your family.”
I don’t like it when he says it like that, like it makes him angry. The words curl uneasily into my brain. I have lived a comfortable life, all while I’ve stood here and told everyone how much I hated it. How much I hate what my family does, how they live.
“I didn’t ask for it, though.” I didn’t expect this turn from Adrian. I expected him to just take the cases for the money my brother gave him, not because he had any sense of justice.
Adrian exhales a heavy breath. “No. You didn’t,” he agrees, running his fingers through his dark hair. “Did you find anything?” I’m thankful for his subject change.
“Doesn’t matter, there wasn’t anything good.” I have to turn off the emotions in my head and rebuild my tough exterior, my one defense mechanism to keep Adrian at bay.
He laughs at that, his head tilting back with the gesture. “Or maybe I just knew to hide the good stuff from my snooping brat of a wife, hmm?”
I press my lips into a thin line and plant my hands on my hips, digging into the white silk. “I’m not a brat.”
“But you are a snoop, aren’t you?” I think he’s teasing, but his smirk fades for a moment as he pushes off the doorframe and moves toward me.
“I’m not snooping.”
“Yeah?” As he gets closer, I can see the way his dark eyes sparkle in the warm lighting. “You’re in my office, looking through my stuff. How is that not snooping, princess?” One eyebrow quirks as he props his hip against his desk. Between him the desk and the bookshelf, I find myself caged into the corner of his office.
“It’s not snooping if it’s my house,” I argue. “We’re married now, aren’t we?” I tilt my head and feign sweetness.
“You’re right.” Adrian smiles with a chuckle, showcasing his perfect pearly white teeth. Something about the way he’s looking at me makes my stomach flip. “What’s mine is yours and all that,” he tells me with a wave of his hand. He looks handsome, even now after a day at the office.
Staring down at me, his lips are so close, I can feel his warm breath on my cheek. For a second, I think he might lean in and kiss me. What would I do? Would I stop him? I’m not sure I would.
And then, right as I think he’s going to, he pulls away, running a hand over his jaw.
“I’ll go see what’s for dinner.”
And then he’s gone. His footsteps echoing on the stairs and my lips still tingling in anticipation.