Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LUCIANO
Viviana doubted herself the moment I suggested she speak to Detective Bright. I saw it in her eyes. She didn’t believe in her ability to leech the information from him, but I did.
I knew it after our first conversation. She wields spitfire like a weapon—quick-witted and clever with a pinch of naivety. She might not possess her sister’s ability to speak five languages or negotiate business deals, but her talents lie elsewhere.
Her confidence blossomed the moment she sat down beside Detective Bright. Her eyes turned sultry, her smiles falsely innocent and demure as she laid her trap. She played the game, and she played it well. From where I sat across the VIP lounge, I loved and hated every second of it.
At last, she stands from the couch and meets my gaze, and every fiber in my body rejoices at the prospect of having her back by my side. I order Lex and Freddy to escort Viviana and our guest back to my private booth, hands clamping down on the edge of the table as I resist the urge to reclaim her myself.
Then, she makes a bold move in her twisted little game. She takes Detective Bright’s hand, a venomous smirk gracing her deceptively soft features. For the second time this evening, she allows another man to touch her. And, when she meets my gaze again, I know she’s issuing a challenge. Testing me. Pushing the limits to gauge just how far she can go before I snap.
Little hellion.
Detective Bright, to his credit, looks ready to throw up. The blood has drained from his cheeks, and sweat wets his brow. Disgusting pig.
They reach the booth, and Viviana finally releases his hand. She flits to my waiting arm.
“I heard you wanted a meeting with my new friend,” she hums, rubbing her hand up the chest of my white button-down. She plays the part of besotted newlywed well— too well.
“I thought I could introduce you. Detective Bright is so nice.” She tilts onto her toes, her lips brushing the corner of my mouth, and my skin tingles where we touch. “He offered to take care of me tonight.”
The muscles lining my spine stiffen, and I cock my head to the side, studying the cop in front of me. He shakes. All traces of the cocky, superior detective have disappeared, leaving the coward beneath. With Lex and Freddy flanking him, I’d guess he’s moments away from pissing his pants.
“Did he?” I murmur, unimpressed. My arm snakes around Viviana’s small waist, settling right on her rounded ass.
I know that I sent her over to Detective Bright’s booth. I planted the idea in her brain to flirt with him for information myself, but that doesn’t quell the burning anger currently wreaking havoc in my chest. It simmers, barely controlled, beneath the surface, fueled by an innate need to possess my little wife.
Detective Bright releases an uneasy laugh, the sound strained and desperate. “No, no, Mr. Venturi, of course not. I mean, I did. But that was before I knew—I never would’ve dared to speak to her if I knew she was your wife!”
“But you said a man like Luciano will only disappoint me.” Viviana pouts—she fuckin’ pouts —and she should be nominated for a damn Oscar. “I only want the best.”
The fire in my chest roars. She’s playing a role in our game—a game that I set the rules for—yet, she seems to be the only one having fun.
My fingertips dig into her fleshy backside, hauling her ever closer. Her legs part, spreading on either side of my thigh as her front presses into me. The heat of her seeps through my pants, and I barely resist the urge to check if she’s wearing panties beneath that scandalously short dress. If she’s not, her bare pussy rubs flush against my thigh.
“You heard my wife.” My mouth curls into a violent smile, and I force myself to release my hold on Viviana. “She wants the best. If you think you’re better equipped to please her, by all means, be my guest.”
Viviana, the little vixen, bats her eyelashes at the man. “Doesn’t that sound fun, Detective?”
Detective Bright shakes his head. “No. No, I would never. I don’t want that—”
“Oh? You don’t want me?” Viviana demands.
His eyes widen in absolute panic, and he lifts both hands up, defenseless. He doesn’t even look at her anymore, which is the smartest choice he’s made all evening. “No. Y-You’re beautiful. I mean- She’s a stunning girl! But that’s your woman, Mr. Venturi.”
A growl—more beast than man—rumbles in my chest. “That’s right.”
No longer capable of denying myself, I tug her back to me. This time, I spin her around and deposit her against my front, draping one arm across her chest and the other looped around her waist. Her pert backside nestles perfectly against my hips, and my cock jerks to life.
She stiffens in the slightest, so I know she feels my body’s natural reaction to her. Good, I think to myself. Let her know what she’s done to me. I bury my head in her neck, inhaling her deep into my lungs before placing a tender kiss on her exposed shoulder.
Detective Bright clears his throat. “I’ll leave. I won’t ever come back—”
Head still bowed, my eyes snap back to our guest. He freezes.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I tut, admonishing his impertinence. “Not so fast. I want to hear about your conversation.”
“I—” He shakes his head. “What conversation?”
Viviana places a hand on my forearm wrapped around her waist, gently drawing my attention back to her. She tilts her head to look at me. “He said the Russians didn’t kill Elenora. I believe him.”
I frown. “You’re sure?”
She nods with conviction, and I believe her, though it disgruntles me. I was so certain that Elenora’s death wasn’t an accident, but if the Russians didn’t order the hit…
“Please,” Detective Bright begins pleading. “Let me go. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about my work for the Antanova family, but I didn’t help cover up some lady’s murder.”
Releasing a long exhale, I wave my hand in Freddy’s direction. “Take him out. I have no further use for him.”
My personal enforcer nods once and clamps a hand on Detective Bright’s arm to drag him away. The bastard is all too eager to follow in the soldier’s footsteps. I watch his figure scurry away, the back of his dress-shirt drenched in sweat.
I feel my wife’s questioning eyes on me before she speaks. “You’re letting him go? Aren’t you concerned that he’ll tell the Antanova’s about this?”
“I’m sure they already know he’s here. They likely knew the moment he accepted my invitation for a meeting.” He disappears down the staircase, and I look down at Viviana with a smirk. “He’s a dead man walking.”
She sighs. “That’s too bad. I sort of liked him.”
“Viviana…”
Laughter flits from her perfect lips, and she spins in my arms. The bulge in my pants immediately misses its spot nestled against her backside. Her hands slide up my chest, soothing. “I’m kidding. Though I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite. Didn’t you promise to cut off the fingers of the next man who touches me?”
“Don’t forget the part about feeding him the fingers afterward,” I correct, tucking her hair behind her ear. She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but chuckle. “I hardly thought it would be fair to punish him for falling for your wicked little trap. By the looks of things, you had him eating from the palm of your hand. You played the game quite well, cattivella .”
Viviana scowls at my new favorite term of endearment, but a hint of pink tinges her cheeks, too. It fits her well, though I’m still tempted to call her mostriciattola— little monster—next time she rolls her eyes at me.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she quips, adjusting the collar of my shirt. “You already knew I did theater as a kid.”
It takes me a moment to realize that she’s flipping my collar inside-out, and I swat her hand away. “Considering your biggest role was the dog in Annie, I think I’m allowed to be surprised by your acting skills.”
“Sandy! The dog’s name is Sandy!” Viviana jabs her index finger at my chest, but I capture it.
We stop, meet each other’s gaze, and a beat of silence passes between us before the laughter starts. I’ve never laughed so much with another person, but Viviana makes it easy. She’s as entertaining as she is infuriating, though I’ve long since abandoned any effort to change that about her. I think I’d miss it if she did change. I’d miss her.
When our laughter dies and we’re left holding each other in our arms, realization seems to settle over us at the same time. Viviana’s eyes drift down my chest, where her hands rest over my sternum, and toward our hips, pressed tight against one another’s. She is the first to break away, carefully slipping from my arms.
Still, she shoots me a small, shy smile as she leans against the table by my side. “Y’know, you were right. I had more fun talking to Detective Bright than I thought I would. The risk and adrenaline… I can see why Elenora wanted to be involved in the family business.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I can’t promise I’ll ever let you do something like it again, though.”
She scrunches her nose. “Why not? I got the information from him.”
I chuckle. “I know, and you were brilliant, Viviana. But I realized about three seconds after you walked away from this booth that it was a bad idea.”
“And why is that ?” Her scowl deepens, and she crosses her arms against her chest, accentuating the swell of her breasts.
“ Because I’m a jealous bastard.”
And it’s the truth. I hated seeing her flirt with another man. I hated even more that I’d been the one to tell her to do it. “Next time I want you to charm one of our enemies, you’ll do it from your rightful place.”
Her throat bobs, but she keeps her chin high, defiant. “Where is that?”
There’s only one answer. “With me.”
Viviana excused herself to the restroom thirty minutes ago.
Thirty minutes. Lex followed her, of course, but that does little to quell the irritation that swells with every passing second. My fingers tap relentlessly on the table, and I’m unable to focus on the two gentlemen sitting opposite me, attempting to sell me on a new real estate deal.
After I told Viviana that she belongs by my side, something akin to panic flashed in her brilliant hazel eyes. She announced that she had to pee ten seconds later, and I haven’t seen her since.
I’m… bothered.
My chest feels tight, and my skin itches beneath the fabric of my shirt like I’m overheating. I’ve unfastened the top buttons and rolled up the sleeves, but I’ve come to the realization that only Viviana’s delicate fingers will satisfy the relentless, pestering need .
“We’ve drawn up these charts for you, Mr. Venturi.” One of the men—I think his name is Mike—slides a piece of paper in front of me. “This shows the estimated rate of returns over the next twenty-five years for the properties in Philadelphia.”
I stare down at the paper, but my mind fails to make any sense of the letters and numbers. Rubbing at my temple, I blink a few times to focus on the charts. Again, the sloped lines and percentages fly right over my head because all I can think about is a certain young woman with my sunflower ring on her finger and a penchant for getting in trouble.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“ What do you think, Mr. Venturi?” The other businessman—God, I can’t remember his name at all—prompts.
My eyes sweep over the charts again, and, this time, I’m determined to force Viviana far from my mind. Fortunately, at that moment, Lex’s large frame arrives at the booth, and, speak of the little vixen, my troublesome wife appears from behind his shadow.
“Oh.” She pauses at the booth entrance. One hand holds a glass of some pink concoction, topped with a bright yellow tooth-pick umbrella and a slice of pineapple. An empty champagne flute rests in her other hand. “Sorry. I didn’t know you’d have more guests.”
She begins to back out of the booth.
“Viviana.” Her name leaves my mouth sharper than I intended, but I can’t bear to watch her walk away again. She stops, eyes wide and guilty. Damn, she thinks I’m angry at her for interrupting. Immediately, I lift an arm to coax her back into the booth. “Come.”
She hesitates, just long enough to search my gaze, before stepping into the partitioned room. Her eyes flicker to the two real estate brokers across from me, and she offers them polite smiles as she speed-walks to my side.
Despite her attempt to sit beside me, I tug her onto my lap again, spreading my legs to accommodate her own. “Where were you?”
“Bathroom.” The sweet smell of alcohol permeates from her breath. “I stopped by the bar on the way… and on the way back,” she admits sheepishly. “I got you a drink, though.”
She lifts the glass in her hand, and pink liquor nearly sloshes over the edge onto my white button-down. She’s tipsy—maybe even drunk—and I chuckle. “What the hell is in that?”
Fighting a smile, she bites her fleshy lower lip. “Honestly? I don’t remember. The bartender let me mix it myself. It definitely has rum.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Deep, low chuckles rumble from the other side of the table, but the men wisely do not interrupt our conversation.
Viviana lifts the glass to her lips and takes a small sip, and her face immediately contorts. “Okay, yeah, there’s a lot of rum in there.”
I reach for the glass of water I’ve been nursing for the last hour and press it into her hands, plying the pink-poison away in the process. “Here you go, cattivella.”
She greedily gulps down the remnants of the water, and a few droplets slip from the corner of her mouth, sliding down her chin. My thumb brushes the water away.
“Thank you,” she breathes once the glass is drained. “God, that was… awful. ”
“So bartending is not in your future?” I muse, unable to minimize the affection that swells in my voice.
Viviana shakes her head and pouts, lamenting the bright beverage I slid to the far edge of the table. “I don’t know how something that looks so yummy could taste like battery acid.”
“More champagne, then?” I offer, stroking the puckered corner of her lips. When she nods, Lex automatically departs the booth to fetch a new bottle of the bubbly wine.
Then she does something that surprises me. She leans her head against my chest, tucking her forehead in the nook between my neck and collarbone. With an exhale, Viviana sinks deeper into my embrace, and a profound sense of contentment spreads over my entire being. I never imagined something—some one— could feel so right.
Swallowing down the fierce, unbridled urge to wrap my entire body around Viviana and consume her, body and soul, until she’s as much part of me as my own blood, I settle for pressing a chaste kiss to her temple before directing my attention back to my business associates. They’ve engaged themselves in conversation about the latest New York Giants game, politely giving Viviana and I time to speak, but I have several more meetings this evening, and I’ve already wasted too much time.
I clear my throat. “Gentlemen. I appreciate your patience.”
They smile, eyes glimmering with knowledge that I’m not sure I like as their gazes flicker to Viviana. I tighten my hold on my wife, and the absurdly possessive part of me wants to carry her away from this club and any other watchful eyes.
And yet, as we begin discussing the properties in Philadelphia again and Viviana’s fingers play with the top buttons of my shirt, I decide that I wouldn’t have her anywhere else.
Drunk Viviana is a distraction. A beautiful, dangerous distraction .
It began as late night slipped into early morning and she sipped her second glass of champagne. My third meeting of the night entered the booth, and Viviana perked up as the DJ on the floor below shifted the mood of his set from upbeat techno remixes to slow, bass-heavy R&B.
I don’t know if she even realized that she started to sway her hips to the steady rhythm. My legs widened to accommodate the new movement, and my pulse quickened with every rock of her hips, back and forth to the beat. The blood rushed straight to my cock, which became agonizingly sensitive every time the fabric of my pants dragged against the tip.
The fact that she didn’t know what she was doing made it all the more tantalizing.
By the time the third meeting ends, I’m overstimulated and hard as a fucking rock. I haven’t come in my pants in almost twenty years, but I’m certain pre-cum stains the front of my black slacks. Just a fraction more pressure and I’d spill over the edge…
As soon as the senator’s liaison exits the booth, my hands clamp down on Viviana’s hips and bring a halt to her relentless movements. “Viviana,” I croak against the pounding bass, fighting to take measured breaths. “You’re killing me.”
Her perfectly manicured brows furrow, and she takes another small sip of champagne before leaning in. “What did you say?”
Rather than trying to shout about my raging hard-on above the music, I decide to show her the dilemma. Still clasping her hips, I pull her ass more firmly against my groin, allowing her to feel every aching inch of my arousal. It nestles between her globes, and, I fight the instinct to thrust against the perfect crack.
Viviana’s hazel eyes expand the moment she notices my erection, and a furious blush taints her already-flushed cheeks. “O-oh.”
I release a harsh, exasperated laugh, but my hands don’t loosen their grip on her hips. If anything, I pull her tighter against me, and my shaft twitches in response. “ Fuck, you don’t even realize it. You’re too damn innocent for your own good.”
Her initial surprise melts away as quickly as it appeared, morphing into sultry eyes and a lazy, drunk smile. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and, fucking hell, she rocks her hips backward again. This time, the movement is intentional and slow. “Is that a bad thing?”
My jaw pops from how hard I clamp my teeth. Familiar pressure builds low at the base of my spine, and I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone so much in my life.
It would be as easy as unzipping my pants and lifting her dress, notching myself at her entrance and pulling her down. I wouldn’t even need to move. I’d spill inside of her the moment her tight walls clamped down on me. But it wouldn’t be enough. I know I wouldn’t be able to stop myself there.
Images flash in my mind of Viviana splayed on the polished wooden table, her metallic dress wrenched up to her stomach, legs spread wide. Her pussy drips onto the same table I’d been signing documents on just minutes ago. She writhes, begging me to fill her and use her and claim her—
“I haven’t decided yet,” I answer at last, my voice a strained growl. Beyond our booth, the rest of the club continues dancing and drinking, the music and voices a mere buzz against the pounding between my ears, utterly oblivious to the torture I endure.
Viviana’s answering smirk can only be described as feline. She holds my gaze, the tip of her nose makes contact with my own. Our lips dance in an intricate waltz, neither willing to take the first step to bridge those final few inches.
“I have to tell you something,” she whispers, and she arches her back.
Despite her words, my attention snaps to the way she parted her legs in the process, and her dress bunches up to her hips. My fingers dig into her hips, a silent plea for permission to descend. Her eyes do not waver, issuing a challenge that demands acceptance.
A quick glance beyond the pony wall that separates my private booth from the rest of the VIP section shows that Lex and Freddy stand guard stoically outside the entrance. A fogged glass pane extends a foot above the half-wall, offering another layer of protection from the outside world. Of course, the booth does not offer absolute privacy. Anyone with enough determination can easily see what happens within, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Let them watch.
My breathing comes in hard pants. Every nerve-ending in my body zeros in on the moment my hands slide from her hipbones. Time stands still as the pads of my fingers brush past the hem of her dress and graze the impossibly soft flesh of her inner thighs. Her muscles flex beneath my touch.
Viviana exhales a low, needy sound, her warm breath fanning against my lips. Her eyelashes flutter closed the moment my fingers reach her cleft. No panties.
“ Christ, ” I hiss, a shudder racking through my body.
She’s warm, swollen and hot with arousal, and—I drag my middle finger between her folds—absolutely dripping. My finger sinks closer to her opening, the slick wet easing its path to her virgin sex. When I reach her vagina, I do not push further, gathering up her arousal and coating her clitoris and lips with it instead.
“Oh!” She gasps when my index and middle finger first graze the hardened button, hips jerking forward involuntarily.
I circle the nub again, and she spreads wider. The scent of her shampoo mingles with the musty aroma of sex, and my mouth waters to taste the glaze now coating my fingers. Still, I’m unwilling to relinquish my slow perusal of her sex to bring them to my mouth.
“What did you want to tell me?” I demand, thinking back to her admission minutes ago.
I rub slow, rhythmic circles around her clit, and her smile borders on ecstatic. She doesn’t answer me, too wrapped up in the pleasure of my ministrations, so I withdraw my fingers from her sensitive clit and swipe them up and down her inner lips while I wait.
Viviana’s eyes wrench open. They’re hazy with lust and intoxication. “Don’t stop.”
“Answer me,” I remind her, hovering my fingers over the bundle of nerves without applying pressure. She tries to rock forward, chasing the friction she so desperately craves, but I withhold my touch.
She scowls, then her eyes darken. It’s a look I’ve come to recognize as dangerous in these hazel depths. A slow smirk curls on her parted lips. “I lied.”
“You lied?”
Viviana stretches her neck to whisper in my ear. “About the birth control shot. I’ve never had it.”
I stiffen. My fingers pull back, but I continue to hold her tight against my front.
That isn’t what I expected her to say. She lied so effortlessly all those weeks ago, I never doubted the truth of her words. And yet, I can’t say I blame her. Faced with the prospect of carrying a stranger’s child, I’m not surprised she tried to buy herself more time by claiming to be protected by a birth control shot. But one thing doesn’t add up.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“So that you’ll fuck me now,” she answers, shameless. Honest. Drunk.
It’s that simple fact that makes me stop. My entire body burns and tightens at the prospect of sheathing myself in her tight, wet heat, but I release a ragged sigh and loosen my grip on her hips instead.
She nearly slips off of my lap. “What are you doing?”
“You’re drunk, Viviana.”
“So?” She turns on me and sways in the process, only proving my point.
I steady her on my knee. My cock, still straining against the seam of my pants, aches at the sudden absence of her grinding against it. I smile, tracing a knuckle along the corner of her pouting lips. “You wouldn’t be saying any of this if you were sober.”
She shoots me a withering glare, yanking away from my affectionate touch. Pink flushes her cheeks. “So? You’re only supposed to care about putting a baby in me as quickly as possible.”
Ice skitters down my spine. My hand falls back to my side, and I frown. “Is that really what you think of me?”
She crosses her arms tight against her chest and huffs. “Clearly it doesn’t matter what I think. When I don’t want you to fuck me, you have a problem with it. When I do want you to fuck me, you have a problem with it. You make my head hurt.”
Despite myself and the sobering prospect that Viviana still believes I merely want her for her womb, one corner of my mouth cracks in a tired, amused grin. Rubbing a hand over my face, I shake my head. “That’s probably the alcohol, cattivella. ”
I stand us both up, holding her shoulders to keep her from tipping over at the sudden movement. Arms still crossed, she stubbornly takes a step away. She’s embarrassed and angry and definitely sexually frustrated. It’s an endearing sight.
“Come. Let’s get you home,” I announce, wrapping my arm around her slender waist. “If you still want me to fuck you in the morning, I will.”
Viviana keeps her head bowed and jerks away from my side, muttering something along the lines of ‘ I’m going to fuck myself, thanks’ as we exit the booth. She storms ahead, and Lex rushes to keep up with her tantrum. I linger a few paces behind.
She’s still giving me the cold shoulder when we arrive at our car, but, by the time we pull up to the penthouse’s parking garage, she’s curled up on the seat next to me. Her brown hair halos her soft features as she sleeps, finally peaceful, and I stroke the long locks away from her brow. My little hellion and angel.
Something warm and profound swells in my chest, and I quietly ask Freddy to take the car around the block one more time.