Chapter 50 – Amanda
After a victorious meeting in the private chambers between myself, the disgraced Maddison and the annoyed Judge Parker—a man who didn’t like his time wasted and had reamed Maddison a new hole—I emerged from the courthouse to find the rain clouds dry and my guards gone.
Hesitating on the step, I was faced with a unique opportunity.
I could run. With no soldiers to drag me back to the monster’s lair, there was no one stopping me.
The chance to finally take matters into my own hands, to deal with our family’s problems, was mine.
The toe of my heel caught on a dip in the grout between the stones. I gripped the iron rail that led down the sidewalk. There wasn’t a cab in sight, but a short walk would find one.
Enzo said he was handling it.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. Did I let him? He hadn’t shown me a reason not to trust him with this. The only thing fueling my resistance was the desire to remain the master of my destiny.
Lifting my eyes to the clouds, right as a ray of sunlight peeked through, I let out a long breath. “It’s always been our destiny.”
There was the truth, plain and simple.
I shivered as the bright warmth crept over my skin. I hoped against hope that Vincenzo came home tonight. I wanted to tell him my decision. That I trusted him to take care of me—but only if I was the one taking care of him.
The purr of a bike rippled through the air. As if summoned by my resolve, a figment of darkness shot down the street, hopped the curb, and stopped at the base of the steps. The black bike growled in greeting.
I smiled in return.
Hurrying down the steps, I was a vision of white, descending to meet the lord of the underworld. “You’re safe!”
Vincenzo already had his helmet off, propped against his side. That soft smile, the one that was only for me, played on his lips. “Missed me?”
“So much.” I closed the distance and wrapped my arms around his neck. Surprise flashed through his deep brown gaze before I closed my own and pressed my lips to his. That mouth was hard and unyielding. He tugged me against his body, devouring me with his kiss.
The air was stolen from my lungs. I would sell every last drop if that was the price.
Excitement shot through me, settling to a warm pulse deep and low. Vincenzo’s gloved fingers pushed into my body, exploring and claiming. Somewhere beside us, the helmet clattered to the cement.
“Madonna santa, fiore,” Vincenzo rasped against my lips. “If this is the kind of greeting you give a sinner when he comes home…how am I ever supposed to leave you?”
“You’ll always come back,” I grinned. “And I’ll be waiting. Per sempre.”
He pulled back, studying me. I let my guard down, wanting him to see my determination.
“Don’t play with my heart, Mandy,” he warned. “You might break it.”
“I won’t.” It was a promise I would spend forever keeping. “But, Enzo? We need to talk.”
Vincenzo nodded. “I know, it’s one of your favorite things to do.”
I slapped his shoulder. “Hey! I like other things too.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up in a wicked smirk. “And those would be?”
Skating my hand over his jacket, up his neck, and against his skull, I arched a brow. “Take me home, monster, and I’ll show you.”
He groaned. The deep rumble was pure masculine want. It sent heat churning between my legs.
“We have an appointment first,” he murmured. “Otherwise, I would throw you over this bike and drive straight home.”
My panties turned wet at the idea.
But reality swam to the surface and begged me to remember the life I was carving out for myself here. “I have to get back to work. Liam will want a report—”
“No.” That word sliced the air.
“Excuse me?” My hackles reared, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
His tone softened. “My deal with the green fucker was that you worked forty hours a week. A minute more, and I’ll cut him for every tick of overtime.”
I scoffed. “He has mountains of work. There’s no way I can get it all done in only forty hours.”
“Mandy?”
“Enzo.” I lifted my brows. But he wasn’t going to budge. Not without incentive. “Fine, fifty.”
“Forty.”
“We’ll see,” I huffed, already forming battle plans for another time. One where we were naked, and I could exert my control.
“No, we won’t.” He gave my ass a firm squeeze, knowing exactly what I was thinking. “And you’re done for today. I told Liam I was picking you up, because there’s somewhere else you have to be.”
My pussy clenched. I loved the implication in his words. “Okay, fine. You win this round.”
Chuckling darkly, he gently pushed me away, plucked the helmet from the ground, and slid it over my head with a little help.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he steadied me to slip onto the bike behind him.
“You’ll see.”
The bike thundered to life, and we shot forward. To the outside observer, Vincenzo seemed like a reckless driver. He was liberal with acceleration. Hairpin sharp with turns. And he treated other vehicles as obstacles, not fellow travelers.
But there was no safer place to be than holding onto him as he sped through his city.
When he finally pulled the bike into a street-side parking space, I leaned back. Looked around. And did a double take.
Newbury Street.
This street held Boston’s upscale shops and was considered one of the world's most expensive shopping streets outside of the major fashion capitals of the world. And where were we? In front of an exclusive storefront that I’d only ever heard of—Il Cielo.
“They’re waiting for you inside,” Vincenzo said, turning his head to gauge my reaction.
“No, they’re not,” I laughed.
Because this was the premier spa in the city, a place with memberships for only the elite to gain access to the services. Tom Brady’s ex-wife had to wait a month to have a facial, people said, although I found that hard to believe.
“Use the name Noel Messina, and they’ll take you straight back.” Vincenzo held out his hand.
There it was. Two times in one day, my codeword for walking through the underworld unscathed. It felt good to assume the alias I used once upon a time.
But it would feel even better to use the name Amanda Messina.
“Enzo, be serious.” I slapped his shoulder. “Where are we really going?”
But he wasn’t smiling. Those dark eyes were the deepest shade of brown in the morning sunlight. They fixed on me with a gaze so intense, I felt it shiver down my spine.
“My wife has been overworked for too many years. Making you an appointment for a full spa treatment was the least I could do,” he finally said and snagged my fingers.
I stumbled off the bike but didn’t fall.
Because Vincenzo would never let me.
“I can’t go in there!” I gazed in horror at my wrinkled white slacks and the rain stains on my white blouse. Not to mention the helmet on my head and the mess of hair underneath.
“Would you prefer that I carry you?” he countered.
“Enzo!” I yelped, jumping back. “They don’t see people like me; I don’t have that kind of status!”
Vincenzo swung a leg off his bike. “March that sweet ass in there, fiore mio, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and find another use for the massage table.”
I stumbled back, breathing hard, and secretly asking myself why that was a bad idea. Vincenzo’s lip twitched as I spun around to meet the doorman, who was already waiting for me to go inside.
Since the employee didn’t bar the entrance, I supposed it was a good sign. Curiosity made me walk into the cool, vibrant interior.
“Good morning,” the receptionist called out. Her sleek black dress was pristine, and not a hair was out of place. “Signora Messina, I presume?”
I wanted to die. But I summoned courage and pulled off the bike helmet. “That’s me.”
That’s…me.
Married to Vincenzo Messina. Living a dream that I thought was lost forever.
As I was handed a cup of volcanic water with Amalfi Coast lemons, which I was told were picked just yesterday, I accepted the trip down the rabbit’s hole.
Wonderland was an incredible place. No expense was spared to create a luxurious ambiance.
The very paint on the wall seemed to be flecked with real gold.
My phone buzzed as the attendant left me to change into a fluffy, Egyptian cotton robe.
Vincenzo: Enjoy your appointment, Guglielmo will pick you up when you’re done.
As the soothing music spread through my chest, I gave up fighting this.
***
Rubbed, pampered, and relaxed, I felt like a new human as I emerged into the lobby.
Through the tinted windows, I saw Bill lounging by a convertible, chewing on a beef stick.
My heels clipped across the lobby, and I vaguely remembered feeling uneasy about my appearance when I walked through those doors.
The full-service treatment turned my body into goo, even the freshly waxed areas, and I just didn’t care right now.
It felt simply wonderful.
“Have a blessed day, Signora Messina,” the receptionist called after me.
I turned and gave her a little wave. “Thanks, you too.”
She grinned. “We’ll see you next week.”
My toe caught the tile’s grout, and I flung my arms wide for balance. There was something wrong with these shoes! “Excuse me?”
“Oh, goodness!” the receptionist gasped. “Are you alright?”
“Fine, I’m fine,” I coughed. “What did you say?”
“About your appointment? Is next Monday not a good day? We can change if you need to, but our instructions were to keep every Monday for you.”
I felt like sitting down.
Scratch that, I needed to sit down.
“I have an appointment,” I repeated. “Here. Every Monday?”
“For the next two years, which is as far as we book out,” the receptionist clarified. “Those were our instructions.”
My husband, a man who forced his last name on me, who was a ruthless player in the Boston Underworld, made a standing appointment at the most luxurious spa outside of New York or LA…for me.
“Does the late afternoon like this work or would you prefer another time?” She looked so worried. I didn’t want to know what Vincenzo had done to make this happen.