8. Aria
Chapter eight
Aria
The dress lay shimmering under the dim light of the room like a cruel taunt.
It drapes over my fingers as I stoop to pick it up, a silky little thing with straps and sparkling crystal embellishments.
Elio Donatelli wants me to put this on? I nearly scream at the man still standing in front of my bedroom door, arms crossed behind his back.
This is the exact reason I’ve not left my room since I moved into this godforsaken mansion. I was so sure Elio would want to shove me around the moment he got the chance, and I’ve been doing everything to stay the fuck out of his way. Not to mention, it’s a bit difficult adapting to my new reality as a mafia lord’s pretend fiancée.
The fact that he would cowardly send his second-in-command over to deliver this worthless piece of clothing to me is even more insulting than the idea of spending the night with him.
What the hell is wrong with this man?
A part of me doesn’t even want to lay hands on the dress, as if the moment I lay it over my skin, I will become complicit in this madness.
The cut of the neckline plunges way deeper than any dress I have ever worn. Whoever picked this must have done so with the intention of reducing me to an object for display. The nerve of these people.
I have only been in Elio’s orbit for a short time, yet he has managed to successfully waddle his way into every part of my life, seizing control over me like I am some pawn in his little game.
“God!” It escapes my lips as I slap my palm against my forehead, wishing to open my eyes and see that I am lying comfortably in my bed, and all of this is only a nightmare.
Unfortunately, the only nightmare I’m in is the one where my father is lying unconscious in the hospital, and I have no other person?no one else other than Elio Donatelli to help keep him safe until he’s better.
“Goddammit!” I mutter under my breath, staring at the two fancy boxes, one containing the dress and the other a pair of gorgeous golden heels.
I yank the door back open and tell this Cortez guy, who seems to be fixated on my bedroom’s doorway, “I’ll be ready in 20 minutes.”
He gives me a stiff nod and marches through the hallway and down the stairs.
I walk back into the room, slamming the door behind me till it rattles from its hinges.
***
I am grateful that Cortez does not say a word to me when I ease myself into the back seat of the car. If he had tried to compliment me, even in a sincere way, I would have slammed my fist into his nose.
Now that I’m considering it, he looks like he’s way younger than Elio and, at the same time, older than I am.
His face is quite attractive, too, almost as attractive as his boss’s, clean-shaven with unblemished skin. His honey-brown hair is parted just enough for bangs to frame his face, softening the edges of his sculpted jawline.
Admittedly, he’s handsome, but nothing compared to Elio Donatelli.
A gasp escapes my lips. Why the fuck am I even entertaining the thought of how damn good Elio looks.
Aria Abruzzi, get your crap together!
As the car pulls into the mansion, he turns his head around but doesn’t catch my eyes, “We’re here, ma’am.”
The lock of the car unlatches, but before I can gather my purse and the flowing end of the gown out of the car, Cortez is at the door, holding it open for me.
“Thank you.”
Again, he acknowledges me with a stiff nod. Then, he proceeds to hand the keys over to another young looking, suit-clad man and points in the direction of the doors.
“This way.”
The golden heels on my feet clink against the polished marble floors. Every step I take into this unfamiliar territory feels like a trap. Especially because it’s one step further into Elio’s territory.
The grand building is built like a palace over a hill with breathtaking views. Its limestone facade glows warmly in the sunlight. The towering columns support the portico, while intricate stone carvings dance across some of the walls.
Inside the main building, crystal chandeliers refract hues and illuminate the lavish furnishings and artwork, adding magnificent beauty to the entire atmosphere. I cannot believe that this mansion is only one of Elio Donatelli’s many private residences.
Cortez stops before an ornate wooden door, knocking twice on the door before pushing it open.
A chandelier hanging from the ceiling illuminates the room with a warm glow.
My eyes do a quick survey, and there he is.
Standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city outside.
My eyes avoid the bare patch on his chest, with tufts of brown hair visible underneath the maroon robe that he is wearing.
Instead, I fix my gaze on the champagne he’s pouring into two flute glasses.
“Leave us.” He doesn’t even raise his head to acknowledge me or his man, Cortez.
Cortez lowers himself into a curt bow before striding out, and I’m left alone to gape at the floor, the ceilings, and the abstract artwork around the room until he walks up to me.
I cannot resist the urge to look into his dark eyes, narrowed into slits. A tendril has slipped off the top of his head, hanging loosely against his forehead, a drop of water trailing from it down his nose.
I dart my eyes away from his face before I do something stupid like kissing that drop of water off his nose.
What in the name of God is wrong with me?
My nose tingles from catching the scent of his aftershave as he hands one of the glasses over to me. I grab it from him with shaky hands and lift the rim to my lips, not stopping until I’ve downed the entire contents.
“Mmm…someone’s thirsty,” he rasps, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ears. My entire body reverberates from that singular act, and out of reflex, I take a couple of steps away from him.
One of his perfectly carved brows shoots up in question, but I don’t give any explanation.
“So…you got my gift…” he runs his brooding eyes over the length of my body, stopping where a good part of the dress is slashed to expose an ungodly extent of my lap.
My pussy instantly begins to burn in reaction to his alluring gaze. Honestly, before meeting this criminal… before Elio Donatelli, I never even felt this kind of feeling down there.
But I hold my stance, “You call this a gift? How dare you?” The sneer on my lips and the blankness in my eyes convey just how much I don’t want to be in his space. At least, I hope they do.
“If you’re asking, how dare I not take it off you…I’m actually planning to do that,” he winks, turning away from me to lean on the counter of the bar as if he’s not in any way concerned about what I think or how I feel regarding this…gift.
“You see, this is exactly what I dislike about you. You’re so full of yourself, thinking you can throw your money around to impress everyone… including me.”
“Easy, wife,” his eyes quickly darken to a dangerous shade, his eyes reduced to slits.
I take a couple of more steps back as he approaches me slowly, like a predator timing its prey.
“I think this gift…” his fingers trail the neckline of my dress, teetering dangerously close to my cleavage, “...is as beautiful as you are.”
My breath hitches and begins to come out in pants.
I snatch his finger away from my breast and fling it back to its place at his side.
“Don’t you fucking put your hands on me! I’m not your whore, Donatelli. All of this tackiness you’re employing to spend a night with me isn’t working. So give up!”
“Aria Abruzzi, I want you to get this in every single brain cell of yours now: Whether you like it or not, You. Are. My. Woman. Now.” I see his teeth clench from the tightening of his jaw. He is fast, covering the remaining distance between us, pushing me back against his wall.
I can almost see my chest heaving, panic bells ringing loudly in my head.
“Mine,” he growls, his eyes darkening. “Now, have a seat,” he commands, sliding his hands into his pockets. I move my heated gaze in tandem with his movement and release a sharp gasp when I see the bulging outline of his cock print through the thin robe. Damn!
“I- I think this meeting is over,” I shoot back, unwilling to sit with him.
“Don’t dare me to do something you’re not ready for yet.” Something flashes in his eyes, but just before I can scurry over to do his bidding, my phone begins to vibrate loudly.
Friedrich Canter. Nice.
“Don’t answer that.” It’s an order but I already have the phone to my ear.
“Work,” I simply mouth and clear my throat. My mouth hangs open when the phone suddenly slides out of my hand and goes into his pocket.
He leans in closer until his lips brush my earlobe. “No one else matters when you’re with me. Get that in your brain.”
I almost let out a whimper until my feminist side realizes what he just said.
“First off, you do not have such a right.” I curl my lips in distaste. “And secondly, aren’t you too old for all of this.”
There’s a mix of anger and amusement playing in his eyes.
“I have all the right I need, Princess. I’m your fiancé. And age has nothing to do with that,” he grunts, trailing his nose down the side of my face.
The temperature seems to shoot up a few degrees as electricity zaps my spine. I whimper, struggling to hold my knees steady.
“I – I mean, you can easily be my dad. You should do something more…elderly.”
The chuckle escapes from my throat, seizing my entire being, as I watch his teeth grind against his jaw.
“Oh, I am your daddy, Princess. But only in bed.” His lips replace his nose as they trail warm kisses down the side of my face.
I want him to stop because I- I don’t know what would happen if we get too far, so I say, “This… is an arranged marriage, Donatelli. It’s not even real.”
Raw anger like I’ve never seen crosses his eyes, and he raises his hand. I shut my eyes, anticipating a hit, but what I get is an ecstatic flush of his lips on mine. Just like that, his lips crush mine, his hand holding my head steady and pushing me closer to him.
For a moment, I cannot move any part of my body in shock as his tongue parts my lips to compliance. His hand is suddenly at the small of my back, stroking.
I know he can feel the hardness of my instantly taut nipples pressing themselves against his robed chest. His free hand grabs one of my butt cheeks and squeezes it. “Fucking soft,” he groans against my lips.
Ah…I can’t deny how good his hands feel on me. Even my pussy concurs as moist liquid seeps from it, causing me to press my hips into his hard member.
I hate how my body melts in his arms, how it easily betrays my strong resolve not to let this man touch me simply because of a kiss.
His hardness rests against my thighs as he pulls me closer with his hand on my back, willing me to take as much from him as he is offering me.
He releases a groan and brings his hand behind my neck to deepen the kiss. I have no choice but to revel in the lushness of his lips as he leaves light nibbles along my bottom lip.
I moan as his hand glides from the small of my back to one of my breasts just as the phone buzzes again from his pocket. We both ignore it until he slides his fingers into the neckline of my dress and pulls it down with a tug, leaving my breasts bare and my back arching for his touch.
He purrs pleasantly as he pauses to take in my breasts. With a hand on one breast, he softly strokes my nipple. “Just as fucking perfect as I imagined.”
A moan falls through my lips as his other hand joins. I shut my eyes and arch my back even more until I feel a hard pinch on the other nipple, inciting a mix of pain and pleasure in my belly. My eyes shoot open, and there’s a sly grin on his face.
“You’ve been disrespectful,” he grunts, drawing me even closer with his hand around my waist.
I feel like I am losing all my self-control. I whimper breathlessly as his thumb rubs circles on the spot, soothing it. His lips return to a spot on my jaw, trailing hot kisses down my neck. I angle my neck, welcoming his lovely assaults.
When his hands reach down to stroke my nipples, the buzz comes again, longer this time, detaching us momentarily from the kiss.
The shock lifts as he fetches my phone from his pocket, and I realize that I am standing bare breasted in front of Elio Donatelli.
I snatch the phone away from his hands, tugging up my dress with my other hand.
“I actually have work to do,” I say, slipping under his arm to grab my purse, which I had dropped somewhere. When he turns to me, his face contorted in dissatisfaction, I give him what I hope is a half-smile.
“I have work, I swear. Your work…” I ramble on.
“Cortez will drop you off.” When he shoves his fists back into his pocket, I nearly groan from relief and a pinch ?just a pinch? of disappointment.
“Thanks,” I say and hurry away from him before either of us changes our minds.