14. Mia #3
“Well, that sounds like a heads-up if there ever was one.” When he turns the corner, I see the large villa sprawled out before us.
There’s a long line of cars edging towards the front where guests are getting out and handing their keys over to a valet service.
I sigh and look back at him. “I’m guessing I’ll be seeing a few of your old flings tonight. ”
His dark eyes soften when I meet them, and I swear he almost looks like he’s in pain when he says, “I’m sorry, amore mio . You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I’d cut my own dick off before I’d cheat on you. You have my heart, my soul, every part of me, vipera mia .”
I’m quiet while his thumb lightly caresses my hand and we slowly move up the line.
“I know you have a past, and I’m not going to throw a tantrum and hold it against you like I had no idea you’ve been a huge manwhore your whole life.”
“Hey,” he starts to say, and then wisely shuts his gorgeous mouth.
“But just so you know, if you ever cheated on me, I’d be the one cutting your dick off.”
A big, lazy grin spreads across his face, and instead of looking scared or horrified, he looks thrilled that I’d care enough to disfigure him.
When he sees me lose my inner war and smile, he leans over and kisses me.
“That probably shouldn’t make me hard, but it did.”
“Everything makes you hard,” I tell him.
“Only if it has to do with you.” His lips ghost over mine in a slow, erotic touch that sends sparks of pleasure through every part of me. “You’re the only woman who makes me hard, Mia. No one else ever will.”
It’s hard for me to believe that, but I still smile and kiss him back.
“You’ll learn it’s true in time, amore mio ,” he murmurs against my lips, proving he knows me a little too well.
By the time we reach the front of the line and the valet is opening my door, I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be and I’m really second-guessing these heels.
I swear to myself that no matter what I will not fall on my ass and embarrass myself tonight.
Everything about this party is intimidating to me, but I’ve never been one to back down from a fight, and I’m sure as fuck not going to start tonight.
By the time Dario walks around the car, my chin is held high and I’m doing one hell of an impression of a woman who’s fully confident.
He wraps an arm around my waist and winks at me. “There’s my piccola vipera . Don’t ever let them see your fear, sweetheart.”
“I’m not planning on it,” I tell him, earning me another grin before he starts to lead me up the wide set of stairs.
I glance back just long enough to see my brother and Alessandro get out of a red Porsche, and then I put all my attention on traversing the stone stairs so I don’t fall and break the promise I just made to myself less than five minutes ago.
Dario’s hand is a comforting presence on my hip, letting me know he won’t let me trip, and with his help, I make it to the top in one piece.
The villa looms in front of us, just as beautiful as it is imposing, and everywhere I look something is blooming.
Red flowers trail up the side of the mansion and creep along the trellises, several men in suits are strategically placed on the property, and if their earpieces didn’t give them away as security, then the tense way they’re holding themselves and the way their eyes never stop scanning the crowd would.
They’re not here to mingle. Their only purpose tonight is to make sure no one tries to harm the pervy diplomat.
A crowd of well-dressed men and women are already inside when a man opens the door for us and ushers us in with a smile.
My heels seem to echo on the marble floor, and I swear my eyes start to burn from all the gold thrown around this room.
It’s enough to give anyone a headache, and even if I didn’t know what a douche the diplomat is, I’d dislike him anyway based purely on his horrible taste in home decor.
I huff out a small laugh when I see two gold-dipped cherubs mounted to the wall.
“Not a fan of Claudio’s tastes?” Dario whispers near my ear. “I was thinking of redecorating my house like this. Don’t you think those angels would look good in our bedroom?”
“Don’t you dare,” I whisper back. “This is absurd, and he’s trying way too hard to prove he has money.”
“Oh you’re just being harsh,” he tells me, but I can hear the amusement in his voice. “Just wait until you see the oil painting in the ballroom. He claims it’s of Apollo, but everyone knows he paid the artist extra to put his face on it.”
“You’re kidding,” I say with a laugh.
“I am not. You can’t miss it. It has spotlights pointed at it, and it’s directly in front of the giant set of initials he had inlaid into the floor.”
“Impressive,” I say. “I can’t wait to meet the man who possesses such exquisite taste.”
Alessandro and Sasha come to stand behind us, and when we step into the large, crowded ballroom, every eye seems to turn to us, and as if I’ve conjured our tacky host myself, a large man with too-small eyes and a too-big waist comes barreling towards us with an overeager smile on his face.
Before he reaches us, Dario turns and hooks a finger under my chin, tilting my face up to his.
The palm of his other hand rests firmly against my lower back, holding me tightly against him.
Leaning down, he kisses me on both my cheeks, first the left and then the right.
He lets his lips linger, and everything about this feels like a message, like he’s announcing his claim on me to every single person in this room.
“ Sei mia ,” he whispers against my skin before pulling back. “You are mine, amore mio, and now everyone knows it.”
He pauses, not giving a fuck that everyone is watching and he’s making the diplomat wait.
I hear Sandro give a soft laugh when Claudio clears his throat.
Dario ignores him and presses his lips to mine.
It’s a close-mouthed kiss, because this is more about making a statement than trying to shock everyone by shoving his tongue down my throat.
Pulling back, he gives me a wink and then turns to face Claudio.
Our host quickly hides the irritated look, but I have no doubt Dario caught it. The man misses nothing.
“ Signore Alessi,” Claudio says in an ingratiating tone that has Sasha muttering in Russian, “What a fucking pussy.”
Claudio beams at us, and when he goes in for the traditional two-cheek kiss, I notice that he’s the one who does all the work. Dario permits it, but he doesn’t return it. The forced smile our host is giving falters the tiniest bit before he gets it under control and turns his attention to me.
“ Signora Alessi,” he says, and when he leans in like he’s going to kiss me, Dario pulls me in closer and angles me in a way that makes it clear Claudio won’t be putting his lips on me anytime soon.
He hesitates for a second, and it’s all kinds of awkward, before he plasters that smile back on and gives me a respectful nod. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Bellantoni,” I say, and then I force myself to add, “You have a beautiful home.” Unable to resist, I motion towards the oil painting Dario had just been telling me about. “What a beautiful picture.”
Claudio’s smile grows even bigger. “Thank you. It’s Apollo, the god of music, poetry, and dance.”
I feel like he’s waiting for me to say it looks like him, but I know I’m not that good of a liar. The face? Yeah, I’ll give him that since it was obviously intentional, but the muscular pecs and eight-pack abs? Not so much, and there’s no way I can tell a lie that big and not laugh while doing it.
After a few more awkward seconds, Claudio turns his attention to my brother. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“No, we haven’t,” Sasha says, and then he looks away and scans the room. If I had to guess by Claudio’s expression, I’d say what my brother just did was the equivalent of whipping his dick out and pissing all over Claudio's initialed, mosaic floors.
“I hope you’re serving wine from your own vineyard tonight,” Alessandro says, swooping in to save the day.
“It’s some of the best I’ve ever tasted.
” He gives Claudio an easy smile and the man puffs up a bit at the praise.
A second later Sandro gives a low whistle when he sees a woman in a gorgeous red dress walk by.
She gives Claudio a grin, and I know I have to be looking at one of his paid escorts.
“Is she your date tonight?” Sandro asks.
Claudio’s an ass, so he can’t help but give a smug grin and say, “One of them.”
Sandro gives a good-natured laugh, relieving the tension before Claudio walks off to greet someone else.
“Well, we’re off to a good start,” Sandro mutters. He looks over at his brother. “Try not to kill anyone.”
When a waiter walks by with a tray of drinks, we each take a glass of wine. Sandro raises his in a quick toast before walking off to mingle.
“I’m going to take a look around,” Sasha says. “I’ll be watching you, though. Signal if you need me.”
“I will,” I tell him, but I doubt I’ll need help, especially with the death grip Dario has on my hip.
Sasha effortlessly disappears into the crowd, ignoring all the curious looks and the obvious interest from several of the women. He’s wearing his mask tonight, so even though he’s not beaming like our host, he’s at least not scaring the hell out of everyone.
When an older man walks over, Dario gives a genuine smile and returns his greeting in a way that he hadn’t done for Claudio. I notice that it’s an air kiss this time, unlike the lingering kiss to the cheek he’d given me.
Stepping back, Dario says, “I’d like you to meet Mia, my wife.” He smiles down at me. “ Amore mio , this is Don Santoro.”