14. Mia #4
Don Santoro may be in what I’m guessing is his late fifties or early sixties, but the man still exudes a great deal of power. It radiates off him, but he still waits for Dario to give the okay before he leans in to kiss both my cheeks.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Mia,” he says, and I quickly decide that I like the man.
He’s showing Dario the respect he deserves without being a sniveling coward about it like Claudio.
This man has a spine. I can see it in the way he holds himself.
He’s not going to get on his knees to kiss my husband’s ass, but he is going to treat him with the honor Dario deserves.
He’s representing the Alessi family tonight, and an insult to Dario is an insult to Dominic.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I tell him.
They switch to Italian, and whatever is said makes Dario laugh. I have a feeling they’re talking about me, but I don’t understand a word of the beautiful language, so I let my eyes run around the room while Dario’s fingers lightly graze my back.
Several of the men are openly staring at me, but it’s the women who draw my attention.
I’ve never seen so many pissed-off faces aimed in my direction before.
I can’t help but wonder how many of them have fucked my man.
I’m guessing a good bit of them. I’d feel a lot better if they all weren’t so stunningly perfect.
Dario pulls my attention back to him, and before I know it I’m meeting Don Esposito and his wife.
I smile and try to look like my feet aren’t killing me.
I take a healthy drink of wine while Mrs. Esposito tries to pretend she’s not dying of curiosity and wanting to know every detail of who I am and how I managed to snag a man like Dario Alessi.
I tip back the last of my wine and hope Leonardo shows up soon so we can get this thing rolling. The faster he sees me, the faster we can get the hell out of here. There are too many eyes on me, and I’m all too aware that they’re all armed and all I’ve got on me is this very thin dress.
I hear Dario’s annoyed grunt right before I hear a sultry voice speaking Italian.
When I turn my head, I’m not at all surprised to see the voice belongs to a gorgeous woman.
No one can sound like that and be ugly. The woman standing in front of us is pure sex appeal, even I can see that, the kind of woman who walks into a room and all eyes immediately go to her.
She’s so tall that her heels put her at an almost equal height with Dario, and the red dress she’s wearing accentuates every perfect inch of her.
A long slit running up the side reveals a slender, toned leg, and she has the kind of body that makes men drool—long legs, curvy hips and ass, small waist, and full breasts that she’s made sure are on prominent display.
Without anyone having to tell me, I know in my gut that Dario has been with this woman, and that knowledge is like a lead weight in my stomach.
Whoever the hell she is, she hasn’t given me more than a cursory look.
All her focus is on him, and it’s starting to really piss me off.
She leans into him, and for one horrible moment I think he’s going to do the cheek kissing thing with her, but he pulls back and says something to her in Italian in a sharp tone that has her pulling her head back.
Whatever he said, it has several people around us lifting a shocked brow and shamelessly watching to see what will happen next.
Dario’s hand never leaves my back, and he pulls me even closer as he tells her something else that has one older man opening his mouth in surprise while his wife tries to hide her laugh behind a cough.
The woman’s honey-brown eyes meet mine for a second before Dario cups the back of my head and kisses me.
This time there’s nothing chaste about it.
His fingers dig into me, holding me tightly as he coaxes my mouth open and kisses me like I’m the most important thing in the world to him and he wants everyone to know it.
It’s as loving as it is erotic, and if anyone arrived here with doubts about how he feels about me, they won’t be leaving with them.
With one last swipe of his tongue, he pulls a soft moan from me, and only when our lips are separated and I feel the cool air on them do I remember that I’m not wearing any goddamn underwear.
My arousal coats my inner thighs, and if that wasn’t bad enough, as soon as he stands back up to his full height, he runs his eyes over my chest as my face heats up.
His jaw tightens, and I see the possessive anger in his eyes.
There was no way to wear a bra with this dress, and thanks to that kiss he just gave me, I know my nipples are rock hard, and the thin fabric isn’t doing shit to hide the barbells running through them.
It takes me a second to get myself under control, and then I do the only thing I can do. I lift my chin and own it. This is my body, and this is what I’ve chosen to do to it. Fuck all of them if they’re going to get judgmental on me.
The ex-fuck is still standing where Dario left her, eyes wide and disbelief written all over her face. She’s still looking at me like I’m trash beneath her designer heels, so I smile and hold my hand out.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Mia, Dario’s wife.”
She gawks at me, and if she’d showed me even just a tiny sliver of kindness, I would’ve returned it, but since she’s being a bitch, I don’t bother playing nice. I wrap an arm around Dario’s waist and rest my hand on his chest while I smile over at her.
“Dario’s never mentioned you.” I give a soft laugh and smile up at his gorgeous face. He winks down at me and rests his hand back on my hip in that same possessive grip that I’ve quickly come to love. “I have been keeping him pretty busy, though,” I admit with another laugh.
“You have, amore mio ,” he says. “My mouth’s been very busy but not with talking.”
The woman, whatever the hell her name is, mutters something in Italian and then storms out of the room.
“Chasing people away already, Dario?”
We both turn at the man’s voice, and I can tell by the way Dario’s body stiffens and his fingers dig a little harder into my hip that I’m staring at the don of the Fontana family.
He takes a step closer, but he makes no move to kiss Dario’s cheeks, and I know the man beside me well enough to know he’d rather die than be the first to lean in for that nicety.
“Leonardo,” Dario says, not bothering to give him the title of don, and I see the man’s jaw tighten at the obvious snub.
Leonardo isn’t at all what I’ve been expecting.
I just assumed he’d be older, but he looks like he’s around the same age as Dario, and I’d never peg him as a mafia don.
He’s good looking in a run-of-the-mill kind of way, but there’s something about him that’s off-putting.
He has dark hair and eyes like Dario, but aside from those superficial similarities, the two men are nothing alike.
The very air around Dario always feels like it’s charged with power, but Leonardo doesn’t naturally project that kind of authority.
He knows it, so he overcompensates for it by trying too hard to look the part he thinks he’s supposed to be playing.
Turning his attention to me, he makes no attempt to hide the slow perusal he gives my body, and when he lingers on my nipple piercings, Dario tightens his grip on me and pulls me closer so at least one boob is smooshed against his chest and hidden from view.
Leonardo gives a soft laugh. “You always did like them a little wild, if I remember correctly.”
I take a lesson from my brother and school my features into a perfect mask, refusing to let this bastard know his comment stung.
“Careful,” Dario warns, and his tone cuts as deep as a knife.
For a split second, Leonardo lets his hatred show, and the animosity and jealousy in his gaze takes me by surprise. This man is running on pure rage, and my pretend husband is at the very center of it.
I feel a presence step in close behind us, and I know it’s Sandro without even having to look.
Sasha knows not to show his face yet. If Leonardo sees him and finds out he’s my brother, then I highly doubt he’ll ever come after me.
Most people have enough self-preservation to not go against him.
I know he’s watching, though, and I know if Leonardo tried something, between the three of them he’d be dead before he could hurt me.
Leonardo looks between the two Alessi brothers while the crowd around us gives a cautious berth in case someone draws a weapon.
The tension is palpable, but Leonardo finally gets his shit together.
He adjusts the collar of his shirt, probably finding it hard to breathe past his anger, and then turns his attention back to me.
He doesn’t say anything, but the wink he gives me is enough.
Dario’s entire body stills, and I dig my fingers into his waist and keep my hand pressed against his chest. I know it won’t keep him in place, but it’s a reminder that we’re here for a reason, and we’ve just accomplished it.
He looks down at me, and his dark eyes immediately soften. Leaning closer, he whispers, “I can’t believe I’m going to let that bastard near you, amore mio .”
“Just think how much you’ll enjoy watching me stab him,” I say.
His look makes it clear he doesn’t like my plan. “You’re not going to need to, because I’m going to take him out as soon as he comes for you.”
Turning me, he says something to his brother in Italian and then starts to lead me from the room. Sandro gives me a playful wink, and when I walk past, he says just loud enough for me to hear, “My brother looks pissed. You’re in for some fun.”