Chapter 28 #2
It’s a sex toy chest. Not just toys. An entire wonderland.
Every item is high quality and gleaming with promise.
My pulse kicks harder as I scan the contents.
Satin blindfolds. Candles, some half-melted.
Butt plugs. Rope, soft and strong, perfect for shibari.
Latex restraints. Leather cuffs. Hard metal cuffs.
Adjustable straps. Vibrators of all sizes and shapes.
Nipple clamps. Ball gags. Feathers. Floggers, so many floggers—long, short, suede, leather. Paddles. Belts.
And drawers I haven’t even opened yet.
I’m vibrating. Like a girl locked inside a Rodeo Drive boutique, wild-eyed with my father’s missing credit card in hand, ready to shop till I drop.
I close the doors slowly, savoring the possibilities, and lean back against the armoire.
Renzo has no idea what’s coming.
And I can’t wait to replace every bad memory with one I’ll never want to forget.
I’m quickly learning, what Riley wants, Riley gets.
It’s a surprising observation, considering the A-hole is involved. But I love Riley, and am silently cheering her on.
She joined me earlier, and we sat poolside, chatting about Los Angeles and New York, and doing an Olympic-level job of avoiding the ever-growing mafia population swarming the villa.
Any mafiosi who so much glanced in our direction got barked at to get lost. Sandro’s actual words: “Keep your dicks in your pants and your asses inside.”
Charming, right?
Riley just rolled her eyes, used to his charm.
When Renzo saw me in the white bikini, Quasimodo’s child or not, he froze, licked his lips like a hungry wolf, and proceeded to mentally undress me with such intensity I felt like dessert. I might be a bit beat up, but I’ve still got it.
“Wine?” he asks now, seated beside me, his hand casually claiming my thigh. I shift closer, loving his touch.
“Please.”
His eyes twinkle with the knowledge I’m asking for more than wine. Our eyes lock, and for a second, everything around us fades. It’s just the two of us figuring out what this is.
Sex, for sure. I lick my lips.
He squeezes my thigh.
But there’s more to us than that. An undeniable attraction … Some might even call it an obsession.
“I can’t believe this,” Sandro interrupts.
I glare at him, except he’s too busy searching for Riley, who’s gone to the bathroom.
Renzo grabs a butter roll and nails him in the head, stopping the search.
Lord, do I quickly collect the butter knives? Something tells me a food fight, Beneventi-style, gets bloody.
“Dick.”
“Bastard,” Renzo smoothly replies.
“Keep looking at her with those pathetic eyes. No wonder Alessia didn’t want you.”
Renzo stiffens.
“Alessia?” Only one Alessia comes to mind, and she’s married to their father. “Didn’t want Renzo? What do you mean?”
Riley appears, delaying Sandro’s response, and takes her seat next to him. Noticing we’re quiet, she asks, “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” Renzo waves a dismissive hand. “Just your boyfriend admitting he loved the spa at the Sicily resort. Wants to repeat the experience after we deal with the Grassi issue.”
That’s … definitely not what we were talking about.
“Aw, I’d love that.” She kisses Sandro, all sunshine and candy.
He grunts, then yanks her in closer for a kiss that’s so intense, I look away.
I narrow my eyes at Renzo. “What am I missing?”
“Not important, babe.”
Translation: very important.
“Your father’s wife didn’t want you?” I turn toward him, confused. “In what capacity—?”
“In the wedding.”
“Oh.” Make sense; he looked like hell warmed over at the service.
“The fair’s back in town this Saturday,” Riley announces, cheeks flushed and a bit breathless. “If you like antiques, you’ll love it. I found a lamp last year that’s like two hundred years old.”
“Sounds ancient,” Renzo comments, amused.
“Ancient and ugly as fuck,” Sandro adds. “If I’m not around, my guys will go with you.”
“And Fina?”
Renzo jumps in. “I don’t know—”
“Fina would love to go.” I answer for myself. Because yes, I want normalcy. Antiques. Wine. Sunshine. Bad enough the psychopath disrupted my life, no way will what happened ruin it.
“Don’t worry,” Riley says. “We’ll be armed.”
“Armed?” I echo. Because, unlike me, Riley doesn’t seem the type to carry a weapon.
“Armed?” Renzo repeats.
Sandro grumbles into his drink.
“He makes sure stun guns are strapped under the front seats.”
Renzo bursts out laughing.
“Why not actual guns?” I mean, I’ve got a pistol in my purse right now.
“Riley’s too softhearted and refuses to aim to kill.”
Renzo is still cracking up. “So you give her a stun gun?”
“Fuck yeah.”
Okay. It’s kind of adorable how much he wants to protect her.
Sandro throws his arms out like he’s an open target. “Anything else anyone wants to throw at me?”
I grin, because how can I not? “Think that market has an antique bench like the one in your casita?”
Riley chokes on her wine like I shot it up her nose.
Renzo arches his eyebrows, intrigued.
Sandro doesn’t even flinch. “You into benches? I’ll introduce you to the one in my dungeon. Or have you already poked around the cellar?”
Well. Okay, then. Message received. Renzo’s not the only Beneventi with kinks.
Renzo doesn’t miss a beat. “Keep it up, and my girl won’t be the only one I tie up,” he says, stabbing a piece of pasta. “With a very different outcome.”
Riley’s mouth hangs open while mine is stuck on two words. My girl.
“Well then …” Riley finally breathes.
The servers arrive, interrupting the awkward moment, though Renzo, not an embarrassed bone in his body, still feeds off it. “All this talk with all the possibilities has made me hungry.”
I snort. Riley giggles. And just like that, the tension breaks.
We eat. We tease. Renzo torments. Sandro grumbles. Basically, lunch is a beautiful, feisty mess.
Then the conversation shifts.
“My team lands in Sicily today,” Renzo tells Sandro.
“Let’s hear Father’s final plans before you act.”
“I just want a casual look around before we send in the mafiosi cavalry.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
They answer in stereo. “Covert drone surveillance.”
“Your boyfriend thinks he’ll modernize the mafia one toy at a time,” Sandro says, tone sarcastic as hell.
“Oh yeah, because storming in guns blazing is so effective,” Renzo shoots back.
Sandro waggles his fork at him. “Just run it past Father.”
“What if I prefer to fly it by him?”
These two could argue about dirt.
Renzo grunts. “Did you even open the one I sent you? Fully assembled, so any idiot could use it straight from the box?”
“Nope.”
Lord, they’re seconds from throwing down, aren’t they?
“Can you show me?” I ask, genuinely curious. Renzo hides the brainiac side of himself, but when it’s on, it’s such a turn-on.
“Me too,” Riley chimes in. “I’d love a panoramic view of Sardinia.”
Sandro grumbles, and Renzo’s pleased as punch.
Then, the barbs, jests, and teasing continue for the remainder of lunch.